


The Troubles We Face

by Talk_Less_Smile_More



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Everyman HYBRID, MLAndersen0, Marble Hornets, Proxy: A Slender Man Story, Slender Man Mythos, Slenderblogs, Slenderverse - Fandom, Tribe Twelve
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Crossover Pairings, Developing Relationship, Deviates From Canon, First Kiss, Fluff, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Implied Sexual Content, Isolation, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Third Person, Pining, Rare Pairings, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Spoilers for Marble Hornets, Spoilers for Tribe Twelve, Spoliers for Everyman HYBRID. Toby Rogers is a twink and no one can tell me otherwise, Supernatural Elements, Tags May Change, Tension, Tim is the definition of "gay and sad" despite the fact that he's Bi in this, Toby's just... gay, Vince Wilson just doesn't want to be here, also Vince Wilson is a canon Berserker (I think) which is pretty cool, but yaknow canon is canon, frequent updates??? idk her, i see him more as a Sleeper, is it too late to mention I have no idea what I'm doing?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-28 10:56:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11416470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talk_Less_Smile_More/pseuds/Talk_Less_Smile_More
Summary: Tim Wright was supposed to be missing.And for three years, he was as good as dead to the public eye. That was, until a crazy kid in a wild get-up appears at his front door and is looking for the one person - if you could even call Him that - that ruined Tim's life.Despite it all, he's willing to help this kid in hopes that maybe - just maybe - he'd be able to stay missing and keep whatever family he has left safe from The Operator.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Before starting this fic, I did a lot of research on the subject of Marble Hornets, Ticci-Toby, and just a bunch of stuff in general that included them and their origins. By writing this fic, I am breaking a few rules in each fandom that include, but are not limited to:
> 
> 1\. Toby Rogers/Ticci-Toby and Timothy Wright/Masky do not reside in the same universe as stated by the Marble Hornets team.
> 
> 2\. Toby Rogers/Ticci-Toby, as stated by his creator, Kastoway, isn't to be shipped with anyone but Clockwork.
> 
> By writing this, I am going against the cannon of Marble Hornets and I am disregarding what Kastoway said to their audience. I hate to go against them, but I feel what I'm trying to write could appeal to certain groups of people. I'm not saying that my writing it's out of this world or amazing, but I believe that it's, at the minimum, readable. 
> 
> I do not want to offend anyone or go against the wishes of the creators. This is for my own fun and honestly, isn't that what writing is about, having fun?
> 
> Anyhow, enjoy what I have to offer - because there's bound to be a lot more to come out of this fic!

**July 27, 2017**

 

There was a knocking on Tim Wright’s front door.

An unsteady, almost jittery knocking that made the man shoot up in his seat so fast that he nearly pulled something in his back and legs. He would have groaned out in pain if he wasn’t scared to be heard.

Tim wasn’t supposed to have any visitors today – or _any_ day for that matter. No one was supposed to know he was alive _._ And if they did still assume that he was alive, they certainly weren’t supposed to _find_ him.

It’d been three years since he’d posted that final video to that channel – three years since he made sure that there would be no possible way for anyone to find him again. He didn’t want to be found, but it was apparent that his wishes weren’t to be granted.

Tim had made so many sacrifices; so many precautions. How did he possibly deserve this? Couldn’t everyone just leave him alone for the rest of his life? According to whomever was behind that door; _no_.

He didn’t want to know who was here, because if one person found him, that meant others would and that also meant that _He_ would find him. Tim didn’t dwell on the thoughts of Him for too long, for his heart began to race and his mind began to grow chilly. He shuddered when he felt goosebumps lining his arms, managing to remain still and keep his breathing at a steady, quiet level.

He hoped that whomever outside that door would lose interest and leave, and when the knocking halted, Tim could feel his heart leaping with unbridled joy. He heaved a sigh of relief after a few long moments of silence. He surely was a lucky man. To have gotten this far, he had to be lucky.

“ _Hello?!_ I know you’re in there! I can hear you breathing! Wait… that sounds weird – let’s pretend I _didn’t_ just say that!”

A voice sounded from outside the house, loud, muffled, and somewhat nasally from what Tim could make out. There was a hint of amusement in the person’s voice as well, which Tim didn’t find himself too fond of. Male, he automatically assumed they were. He didn’t know what spurred the assumption, but he wasn’t going to question it. What he was going to question, however, was _how in God’s name did someone find him?_

He carefully reached into his back pocket, slowly bringing out the knife he tended to keep on him at all times. It was sheathed to prevent his clothes from being torn up and also so it he wouldn’t slice himself open on accident when sitting down or going to reach for it. It was made to protect Tim, not hurt him.

He unsheathed the blade, quietly laying the covering down on his coffee-table before making his way over to the front door, less concerned as to if he was heard approaching it. He took a glance out the small window on the door, his brows furrowing at the figure he saw standing there.

This person wasn’t a man, he was _kid_. Sure, he was a lot older than any normal kid, this one looked to be maybe in his early twenties or later teens, but he was ever still, _a kid_. The kid in question, wore very strange clothes, making Tim wonder if this is what the new style and trends of the year. Orange goggles rest atop of the young man’s pale nose, a faded blue hood drawn over his head of wild brown hair. He had some sort of bandana or mouth guard on as well, the item of clothing looking to have teeth-like shapes sewn into it. There were some weird kids these days, that was for sure.

Hesitantly, Tim pried open the door, the hand with the knife staying hidden behind the slab of wood he used to conceal the interior of his home. He stared at the kid before him, the young man roughly the same height as he was, but undoubtedly younger. He looked as if he was smiling under the cloth on his mouth from the way of which the sides lifted up. Tim could imagine how irritating it’d be to have something on your face like that, but then again, he _knew_ what it was like. He just didn’t want to think about that for much longer than he needed to.

Tim inhaled deeply through his nose, “You… Who are you?”

He tried to act as casual as possible, attempting to keep his head cool and not make a fool of himself in front of a stranger. Besides, this stranger had somehow _found_ him and approached him openly. Tim eyed the two weapons around the boy’s waist, gripping his knife a bit tighter behind the door.

The kid’s smile grew in size, “Name’s Toby. You’re Timothy Wright, right?”

As expected, the boy’s voice was muffled and somewhat nasally. It was a bit high pitched, but considering the thing over the – _Toby’s_ mouth, Tim wasn’t able to judge that very well.

A shiver shot up Tim’s spine when he heard his name spoke from the brunette’s mouth, his cool having been lost and regained all within a few seconds apart from each other as he spoke in response. He nodded careful, cringing internally when his voice shook, “Why-why are you here?”

“I need your help.”

“Can’t you just – I don’t know – ask _someone else_? I’m… busy.”

Toby giggled, as if what Tim was asking was funny to him. For a kid who wears clothes like this is the dead of summer, it must be funny. Tim wondered how sweaty this kid gets if he wears this kind of stuff on a daily basis. The hooded sweater he wore seemed pretty thick, plus it was made up of darker tones, which sucked in sunlight. At least a previous, younger version of Tim knew that yellow (dull yellow, never bright. Too noticeable) was a better suited color when it came to coats. He was taken from his thoughts as soon as the boy began to speak again,

“It took me a very long time to find you, besides,” the boy seemed to twitch in random parts of his body, the muscles under his skin shifting in a way that almost seemed uncomfortable in Tim’s eyes. “You’re the only one that could really understand what I need help with.”

“And what’s that?”

“I’m looking for The Operator—”

Tim didn’t even have to let the kid finish, he didn’t want to listen anymore – he _wasn’t_ going to listen anymore. Dealing with The Operator was the literal _last thing_ he wanted to do. He was getting ready to slam the door shut on Toby’s face, but not before giving him a small piece of advice. He sneered lowly,

“ _Don’t._ ”

The brunette looked taken aback, anger showing up in his owlish eyes behind the orange goggles he wore. Tim would have made a comment on how they reminded him of his steampunk days, but right now, he was frustrated with this kid’s antics. Toby seemed to crack his neck before saying,

“I have to, though. You don’t understand—”

“No. _You_ don’t understand!” Tim cut him off again, yelling by this point. There was no one anywhere near to hear him, so he could yell all he wanted. “That – That _thing_ is nothing but trouble! No one should be getting themselves involved with Him!”

Toby’s eye twitched.

Tim was unsure as to if it was an involuntary twitch of the muscles, or Toby was beginning to grow angry. He hoped it wasn’t that latter, but then again, maybe if he got the kid annoyed enough, he’d go running back home. It’d be better that way. Even so, the small action made Tim’s fist wind tighter around the knife in his right hand. He didn’t plan on taking any chances.

Toby inhaled deeply, his eyes narrowed as he stated, “He _saved_ me.”

“A – a monster like _that_ wouldn’t have saved someone like _you_ ,” Tim sneered, not sure if he meant to sound so harsh or not. The harsher he was, however, the more likely this crazy kid would give up. That’s what Tim believed, at least.

The young man before him looked offended, his eyes flaring with anger behind the tinted goggles, “What’s that supposed to mean?! Someone like _me?!_ ” Toby’s body emitted more twitches as he stepped a little closer into Tim’s _“protective bubble.”_

“ _Chill_ , kid,” Tim held his free hand up in a mock surrender. “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything.”

Tim could see the intense glare Toby shot that him, the kid’s fingers twitching at his sides, slowly forming into fists. They neared the two hatchets he had at his belt, making Tim’s heart beat a little faster. Toby snarled lowly,

“Don’t call me that. I’m not a fucking _kid_.”

“You are to me,” Tim replied carefully.

He wasn’t sure if Toby knew how to use those weapons of his, but he surely didn’t want to find out. Now that he looked at them more, he could have sworn he’s seen one of them on the small, thick TV in his living room (if you could even call it a living room). It could have been a coincidence, considering there was a lot of hatchets with that make and style.

Toby huffed through his nose, his shoulder twitching as he crossed his arms over his chest. Tim felt his caution fade the slightest when he saw the look Toby’s face took on. The boy had an expression of hopelessness, he almost seemed wistful if one were to look long enough. Tim would regret this later, but he couldn’t stop himself from musing a short question to the boy.

“Would you like something to drink? I have soda and water and… yea, that’s all I have.”

Toby perked up the slightest, his bushy eyebrows popping up in what Tim assumed was pleasant surprise. The young man smiled from beneath his mouth guard – or whatever it was – before his muffled voice sounded, a lot less angry and frustrated than it was before.

“Soda sounds nice… What kind do you have?”

“Ya know, the usual. Coke, Pepsi, etcetera.”

Toby nodded, humming in response.

Tim took this as the proper time to open the door wide so Toby would actually be able to move inside without so much as brushing against Tim. Despite everything, Tim was still on guard, the grip on his hidden weapon still tight and steady.

Toby seemed to pick up on Tim’s caution, the kid smiling under his mouth guard before his hands slowly went down to the two weapons strapped to his belt. He spoke calmly as he moved to take them off,

“Sorry about these – they’re for… work purposes.” Toby eventually got the point where they were completely off of him. He held them up in front of Tim’s face, “Here. You can even keep a hold of them for me. Though…,” Toby’s gaze flickered to the door, the boy leaning inward a bit. “You’re going to have to put down that knife if I plan to come in.”

With a moment to collect himself and take the weapons in his free hand, Tim sighed an irritable, “ _Fine,_ ” before letting allowing Toby to pass over the threshold of the door. The boy didn’t hesitate to, despite the fact that Tim’s knife was still in his hand. Weird kid, indeed.

He didn’t know how Toby could have possibly known that he had a knife on him, but then again, this kid did find him all the way out in the middle of the woods. Tim estimated he was somewhere around north-central Colorado, but he never really kept up with destinations or mapping these days.

“Nice place you got here, Timothy!”

Tim grumbled curses under his breath as he shut the front door, turning around to see Toby’s owlish eyes scanning the small living room. The boy looked over the photos Tim had plastered on the one clear wall behind his TV, the brunette’s gloved fingers brushing over the sides of a polaroid that Tim forgot he still had. He took the time to sheath his knife and put it back into his pocket while Toby rambled on about something that Tim merely nodded along to.

The noise softened a bit when Tim retreated into his kitchen, but since the walls were ever so thin, he could still here Toby speaking. He carefully set Toby’s hatchets down on the nearest table before heaving a heavy sigh, his thoughts loud in his mind as he pulled two sodas out from the small fridge he had next to his counter. There wasn’t much food in there, he noticed. He’d have to go out and get more soon, but right now, he had to deal with the crazy kid in his living room.

Toby was sitting on the far end of Tim’s old leather couch when Tim returned, the boy fiddling with the remote to the blockish TV sitting atop a small stand of chipping wood. Tim didn’t get many stations out here, only the essentials. News, cartoons, and soap operas. Toby seemed engrossed with the current cartoon playing on the TV. Tim didn’t remember the name of this one, but it was a rerun of a show that ended back in early 2016.

“Here,” Tim sounded, thrusting out a coke to Toby. The boy perked up behind his mask-like attire, Tim cringing internally when the comparison hit him. The older of the two men sat down on the opposite side of the sofa, attempting to keep himself focused on the cartoon playing on the television. Alas, his attention was more so set on Toby as the kid took off articles of clothing from his face.

First came off the hood of the sweater he wore, the wild brown hair under it seeming knotted in certain places and maybe a bit grimy if one were to look closely. Then came the orange goggles that still reminded Tim of something from the steampunk genre. The older man was pleasantly surprised to see that Toby had hazel eyes, sure they were dulled over and the bags under his pale skin distracted one from the color of his irises. Lastly, was the mouth guard with the teeth-like shapes sewn into the surface of it. Tim could have sworn he felt his stomach churn when he caught sight of the injury on Toby’s face. It was right on his mouth too.

The injury itself wasn’t all that bad.

There wasn’t any blood or swelling or anything of the sort, but it looked painful. From his lips to perhaps his ear, that whole section of Toby’s face was torn open, showing his teeth and gums, which were surprisingly still in decent shape considering what Tim excepted. There was a light trail of facial hair on the bottom side of the kid’s jaw, moving upward where it darkened at his chin and below his lip. Tim used this as a distraction from the big scarring on Toby’s face, but it didn’t seem to do any good.

He watched silently as Toby cracked open his can of coke, bringing the drink to his lips. Only then was when Tim said something. He practically shrieked,

“Holy shit! How are you supposed to eat or drink like _that_?!”

“ _Carefully_ ,” Toby grinned as he tipped his head back, pouring his drink into his tilted head. Tim couldn’t help but observe him with great interest. His mind swarmed for answers as to how this kid got such a nasty injury. It _had_ to hurt, even more so since he was ingesting something that would get in it. However, there was no sign of Toby being in pain as he casually drank his soda.

Tim gulped, his question mostly rhetorical, “What even _are_ you?”

“A proxy.”

“A _what?_ ” Tim laughed nervously, not exactly sure if he wanted to know what that was. Toby seemed very casual about it all, the boy taking time to drink his soda in between his speech. Tim distracted himself with his own soda, opening and drinking it seemed to do him better than trying to examine other parts of Toby’s face.

Toby hummed, “I’m a proxy to what you like to call _‘The Operator.’_ ” He said, “I do His dirty work. That’s why I’m looking for Him. I’ve tried calling out to Him for months now, but He won’t answer.” Toby’s expression shifted to one similar to distraught.

Tim looked at him incredulously, “Maybe that’s a good thing – that He doesn’t answer. Kid’s like you shouldn’t be fooling around with things like Him.”

Toby spat, “But I _have_ to get into contact with Him. He’s my master – my keeper – my _savior_. I’ve been searching around for any information on Him for _months_. I would have chosen to seek out that Alex Kralie guy had you not killed him.” Through his periphery, Tim could see the cold look Toby sent him.

“Alex…He didn’t know what he was dealing with,” Tim shot back. He casted his gaze back up to the brunette, narrowing his eyes at the boy. “And neither do you, kid.”

Toby’s eyebrows furrowed, the corners of his lips tilting downward into a frown that seemed more like a sneer than anything. He growled, anger clear in his vocals, “And what about _you?_ Did you know what you were dealing with when you came in contact with The Operator the first time?!” Tim opened his mouth to say something in response, but Toby talked over him. The brunette fumed, “I’ve seen the videos! All of them! I know who and _what_ you are!”

“You know _nothing!_ ” Tim retaliated, almost wincing at just how loud his own voice was to the ears. Toby went silent, his eyes still locked with Tim’s and still stuck in a never-ending state of rage. Tim, too, stayed quiet, afraid to speak for the longest time.

He took a long sip form his soda, taking the chance to draw his eyes to the can rather than the hazel of the kid’s eyes. Tim heaved a sigh when the silence became too deafening, but only when Toby’s expression softened to one of only annoyance and frustration. He mused cautiously,

“You… You watched the videos?”

“How do you think I knew who to look for in the first place?” Toby crossed his arms over his chest, “My first three choices out of your little movie project died… And so that left be with one of the last cast members of Marble Hornets that _wasn’t_ dead,” Toby smiled, “ _You_. Timothy Wright, aka, _Masky_.”

Tim felt his whole body turn cold within an instant, dread taking over his mind at the utterance of that name – that title – that was given to him by _“fans”_ of the videos Jay posted on the Internet. Then again, one would also be made to believe that Tim and this alter ego of his weren’t the same person. He’s been on the Internet before, so he has a good idea of what people think of him.

Toby continued, even if Tim was trying to tune him out that this point.

He mused, “I would have gone to that Noah guy all the way in Florida, but I wasn’t really sure if he was still alive or not. Besides,” Toby smiled. “Why make plans for a long trip like that when I could just hike up here? You were one of the first to experience The Operator’s power anyhow, so…”

“What makes you think I’ll help you?” Tim spoke quickly, his voice rough.

Toby laughed mechanically, his neck cracking, “Oh, you _will_ help me. Trust me, I can be pretty persuasive when I want to be.”

Tim gulped, a certain question popping into his head, “What kind of work do you do for Him anyhow?”

Toby shrugged, his right shoulder twitching in time, “Ya know, the usual. I get information, I do a bit of – I guess you could call it – _interrogation_ , and when I’m not doing either of those, He has me take out His enemies or people who get themselves a little _too_ interested in Him.”

Tim felt his body begin to shake, chills running up his spine as his grip on his can of soda tightened. He uttered weakly, “You’re a… _murderer_?”

Toby grinned, “I guess you could say that. I’m more of an _assassin_ , really. Though, I probably just prefer that term because it’s got two words that describe me the best – _sass_ and _ass_.” He snickered as if his own words were the funniest thing in the universe. Tim honestly felt like his heart was going to burst. He allowed _a killer_ into his house. There should have been so many red flags popping up right when he laid eyes on this kid – this crazy, insane _kid_. However, there was none, and barely one to worry about when Tim saw the weapons on Toby’s belt.

He pursed his lips as he stared on at the brunette across the way, “Wait… I think I heard about you from the news… You’re – You’re _Toby_ _Rogers_ , the kid that’s killed what—?” He narrowed his eyes at Toby. The young man in question still had a cocky expression on his features, as if he were _proud_ of what he’s done with his life. “—a hundred? Maybe two-hundred people so far?”

Toby huffed through his nose, still seeming far too amused with the situation for it to be normal, “Why’d you open your door if you knew who I was?”

Tim sneered, “I said I _heard_ about you, that doesn’t mean I _saw_ what you looked like or anything. Besides,” he gave a frustrated sigh. “I thought you were just a freaky kid who somehow managed to find me when no one else could…” Toby seemed to get the point by now, the kid looking to be in the middle of a thoughtful silence before he was to speak again. He asked a similar question to the one he spoke of when he arrived,

“Now that we have that cleared away, will you help me find The Operator?”

“ _No_. I’m not putting myself in danger again because of that thing. I’ve already dealt with Him enough in this lifetime and if I had to again, _it’d be way too fucking soon._ ” Tim set his drink down on the coffee table in front of the couch, bringing his hands up to rub them against his face.

Toby made a sound of agitation, scoffing, “Do you know the kinds of rewards you’d get from helping me? I’m rich as _Hell_ thanks to Him. If you help me,” the kid smirked broadly. “Maybe we could find you a place to live where no one would ever possibly find you. Not even The Operator would be able to find you.”

“ _You’d_ be able to find me,” Tim spat.

Toby furrowed his brows, his voice getting louder and angrier, “Listen here, _Timothy_.” Just by the intensity of the boy’s voice, Tim knew that he shouldn’t try and test him right now. The kid’s hatchets were still in the kitchen, but if he was honest in being a proxy – or _whatever_ it was he called himself – to The Operator, then Tim wouldn’t be surprised if Toby could find something else to use in place of his signature weapons.

Toby snarled, “If you don’t help me, I might just have to kill you, or _better yet_ , I’ll shove you back out into the real world – maybe even use you as _bait_ to get Him to come back here. You’re the only one left out of all the others I’ve sought out – yea, you were one of my last choices; _get over it_ – and I’m _not_ going to let another one of you slip past me so easily.” Toby’s neck cracked, his finger twitching wildly. Tim tried to stay focused on the younger man’s face, which was contorted with anger.

“And if you _do_ help me with finding him,” Toby said with raised eye brows. “I’ll be sure to reward you _handsomely_. I’m even offering to keep _The Operator_ off your back for the rest of whatever miserable life your living. _Just. Help. Me._ ”

Tim let out a shaky breath, “How do you know I won’t go to the cops after it’s all over?”

“You’re still on the missing persons list, _buddy_. Unless you’d like to be shoved back into society, then _go right ahead_. Besides,” Toby’s expression still shone anger, but it also hinted at amusement. “Even if you weren’t on the missing persons list, no one’s gonna believe you. They’ll think you’ve lost your mind from not having any social contact in the past – what? – _three_ _years?_ ”

Tim kept quiet.

Toby cackling as a response.

After a short silence, Tim finally managed to grumble out a seeming answer to the original proposition. He said, “Okay, so… where do you suppose The Operator is anyhow? Do you have any leads?”

Toby’s expression perked up automatically, as if all anger vanished in thin air. Tim was a bit unsettled by this fact, but he wasn’t willing to question it – at least not directly. Toby set his empty can of soda down on the coffee table, shrugging, “He’s probably back in Germany or something, I don’t know.”

“Why would He be in Germany?”

“I guess because He was originally from there? You can’t really choose where you were born. Even if you are a faceless monster…” Toby’s tone almost seemed fond when he spoke, which was strange. However, like everything else so far, Tim didn’t question it. Tim rubbed a hand across his forehead,

“So, we’re headed to Germany?”

“Not quite,” Toby held up a singular finger as if to halt Tim from speaking any further. “We have to get more information. I have a few friends I need to get in contact with, but we have to meet them at a certain place at a certain time with a certain—”

Tim cut him off, “I get it. Lots of variables. Will you get to the point?”

“These guys might know how to find The Operator,” Toby finally stated.

Tim crossed his arms over his chest, “Why didn’t you go to them first?” Instead of the agitation or anger Tim expected from the brunette, the boy scooted closer to him on the couch, a sly grin curling onto his lips. He mused playfully,

“Why would I need them when I have you, Timothy?”

“ _Tim_.”

“What?” Toby’s voice softened, reaching higher pitches than expected as he seemed to be taken off guard. His playfulness practically vanished in an instant.

Tim offered a smile (albeit, a strained one), elaborating a bit, “If we’re going to be spending all this time together, you might as well start calling me _‘Tim’._ ”

Toby clicked his tongue, a smirk forming on his face again, “I’ll think about it.” Which Tim supposed translated into, _“I’m never calling you **‘Tim’**.”_ The older man didn’t much care either way if Toby called him _“Tim”_ or _“Timothy,”_ but he preferred _“Tim”_ over how formal the alternative sounded. As long as it kept Toby happy and not threatening to kill Tim, then the older man would let the brunette do whatever he wished. Besides, the faster they found The Operator, the faster Tim could go back to his life of solitude.

“Who are these people anyway?”

“They’re proxies like me.”

Tim felt dread well in his chest, “There’s more of you?”

“Of course!” The kid exclaimed, popping to his feet and brushing the non-existent dust from his outift. Tim looked Toby up and down, sure that the brunette would automatically be recognized if they went out in public with him wearing that. Tim asked abruptly,

“Do you have anything else to wear?”

“Uh… no?” Toby replied, a singular, bushy eye brow arching in a questioning manner.

Tim sighed, mostly to himself as he slowly rose to his feet. He picked up his half-empty can of soda, drinking the rest in a few gulps before taking Toby’s empty one in his other hand. He locked eyes with the kid when he looked over at him,

“You’re not going to be able to go in public wearing your normal clothes, kid. I have something that might be able to fit you, but we’ll have to see.” Tim tossed the two cans into the small trashcan near his TV, internally cheering when he got both of them in on the first try. When he turned his attention back to Toby, the brunette was fiddling with the hem of his sweater. Tim took note of the fact that Toby was wearing a black turtle neck under it.

Tim hummed at the sight, “Well, maybe not. You might just be able to take off your jacket and keep your… mask-thing off your face.”

Toby deadpanned at Tim’s words. “Little problem,” he spoke in a voice coated with ridicule, pointing to his facial scarring, “What about _this?_ On top of that, I don’t exactly have the appearance of the _‘average guy’_.” He was right, Tim had to admit. Toby’s skin was so pale it almost seemed grey when the light hit it just right. He also twitched and cracked his neck a lot, as if it were a bad habit that simply couldn’t be shook. Toby was anything _but_ average.

Tim thought aloud, “Well…, maybe we could put a bandage over it or something? If I had the right tools and the money I could probably sew you back up, but then again,” he looked over Toby. “You don’t look like you have money either.”

Toby scoffed, “Did you not hear what I said earlier? I’m _rich_ , Timothy. It comes along with my line of work. If I kill someone rich, _I obtain those riches for myself._ ” Tim almost though Toby was mocking him from how the tone of his voice was, and honestly, Tim wouldn’t be surprised if the kid was mocking him.

Tim clicked his tongue, speaking a bit off topic, “Just chill here while I go get ready…” He was just about to leave the room before the sudden questions arose in his mind, “Wait, so, where are we going? You mentioned Germany, but you also mentioned other proxies? Are we going to them first?”

“Just go make sure to pack a lot of clothes. We’re gonna be gone for a _long_ time… depending on how long He wants to say hidden, that is.” Toby didn’t seem too sure, from what Tim pick up on his tone of voice.

Tim inhaled deeply, deciding it best to just follow along with what Toby was saying and not question him too much.

He nodded curtly, putting on a subtle smile, “Alright. Sounds good.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim Wright begins to venture into uncharted territory when it comes to Toby Rogers.

“What are you _doing?_ ”

Toby Rogers’ nasally – and also somewhat squeaky – voice sounded from behind Tim Wright, the older man nearly having a heart attack when he met the hazel eyes of the younger man in the mirror. It was even more dangerous considering the fact that Tim held a sharp razor close to his face and neck.

Tim glared at the boy in the mirror, clarifying, “I’m _shaving_. You should too if you want to blend in a bit more.”

Toby pressed a hand over his heart, giving a dramatic huff. The boy acted as if the mere phrase had offended his entire family a tenfold. Tim couldn’t help but find it funny, but he made sure his facial features expressed nothing sort of disinterest, for he didn’t want to mess up and cut himself.

“ _Shave?_ ” Toby exclaimed, “I know not of the word! I sh— _wait_ _no!_ Not the sideburns!” Toby spluttered out, his gloved hands hitting at Tim’s shoulder in a frantic manner. There was still a playful, amused air to him despite the feigned urgency of his vocals. Even when Tim started to bleed from all the shoving Toby was doing. The older man supposed he spoke too soon.

A fragment of a thought passed behind his eyes when he saw the blood from his cheek drip into the sink, _‘How is God’s name am I going to handle this kid for more than a day?’_ The older man gave a frustrated sigh instead of voicing his thoughts and all the curses he wanted to spout. He settled with something mild, but still had a bit of a bite,

“What the _fuck_ is your problem, kid?”

Toby shrugged flippantly, a large grin remaining on his features as the muscle of his neck twitched. Tim couldn’t help but allow his eyes to linger on the spasming area of Toby’s body, his mind reaching areas where he didn’t necessarily think were appropriate. He wanted to ask why the boy’s body twitched, or why he cracked his neck so much, but Tim found himself lacking the proper words to do so. Even if he _did_ ask, he was too afraid of what the answer would be.

Toby seemed to pick up on where Tim’s attention turned, his smile faltering as the boy brought a hand up to the spot, as if to hide it from Tim’s sight. Only then, Tim was shaken from his trance, the man continuing to shave off the rest of his treasured sideburns and whatever facial hair he had left instead of staring. The part of his face that was cut was still bleeding, leading Tim to have to dab it with toilet paper so it will stop.

Tim uttered softly after a drawn-out moment of awkward silence between the two men, “The other proxies… what are they like?”

Toby perked up again, the boy effortlessly sliding behind Tim to sit on the toilet in between the shower and sink. He tittered, tapping his gloved fingers on the laminate on the wood counter, “They’re great! They’re also a lot more powerful than I am, but that’s okay!”

Tim caught onto the fact that Toby seemed a bit dejected, even if the older man didn’t quite understand what the younger was talking about when speaking on _“powers.”_ Toby continued anyways, without interruption,

“Swain is my personal favorite! He likes to tease The Observer a lot, but who doesn’t? Firebrand was also pretty cool! That is, until he…” Toby trailed off, his eyes darkening substantially as he went quiet. Tim was unable to suppress a shiver at the sight.

He tentatively asked the boy, “What happened to… um, _Firebrand_?” Tim wasn’t sure if he were saying the name correctly, but Toby seemed to get the gist, the brunette offering a small smile. He sighed deeply,

“I’m not exactly sure what happened… I’m still pretty new compared to the rest of the Collective, so I don’t have the _privilege_ of getting involved with everything that happens with them.” Toby laughed a bit, the action seeming forced, “I occasionally hear about Firebrand from Persolus, so I guess he’s fine wherever he is… He’s probably looking after his host body.”

“They,” Tim gulped. “They have _hosts_?”

Toby nodded enthusiastically, “Yep! One day, when I’m like them, I’ll get to have a host body too!” He coughed nervously into the sleeve of his turtleneck, “Sure, I might just be placed back into the body that I have right now, but I guy can dream!” Within was seemed like an instant, Toby’s gaze narrowed, Tim finding himself unnerved by the look Toby was giving him. It wasn’t angry or anything of the sort, which only made Tim more on edge.

The kid cooed lowly, as if trying to make his voice sound sultry, “Maybe if you’re still alive when the time comes, _you_ can be my host, _Timothy_.” The mere way Toby spoke Tim’s name made the older man want to turn and kick him where the sun didn’t shine, but he stopped himself. He didn’t want to agitate this kid – at least not this early on in their little expedition.

Tim still didn’t know where they were headed. He assumed the end goal was Germany, however. He still didn’t necessarily know why there were going to Germany of all places, even if The Operator was originally _“born”_ there (Tim wasn’t sure if he should say _“born”_ or _“created,”_ for he didn’t know which it was and honestly didn’t want to find out).

Then again, Tim didn’t want to find The Operator in the first place. He just wanted to be left alone, but he also wanted to make sure that his family – and whatever remaining friends he had – were left alone as well.

It took Tim a moment to realize he had paused mid-swipe below his chin, the man finally deciding that he had cleaned himself up enough for now. He turned his head to Toby, who was fiddling with the toilet paper rack as if it were the most interesting artifact in the world. To a crazy kid like him, it probably was.

Tim spoke timidly, “Can I put a bandage on your… _scar?_ ”

When Toby looked up at him with a flame of anger burning in his hazel eyes, Tim rushed to explain. He spluttered out anxiously, “Just – Just so people don’t make connections or stare as much! We-we wouldn’t want you to get arrested, right?” Tim’s nonsensical rambling had somehow managed to get through to Toby, the brunette boy nodding thoughtfully, but still having the slightest bit of fire behind his eyes. He didn’t say anything on the subject at hand, however.

Tim cleaned out his razor before setting it back down in its respectable place. He washed his hands and face soon after, all while feeling Toby’s eyes burn into the side of his head. He tried to brush it off and think about other things, but _damn_ , was this kid’s stare _intense_. Tim squatted down to open the two cabinet doors under the sink, his own eyes searching the water-stained, dusty area for the first aid kit he was sure he had in here.

He smiled to himself when he spotted the kit, tugging it out of a few cobwebs before laying it on the sink counter so he wouldn’t have to struggle as much in getting back into a perpendicular position. At last, Toby’s eyes seemed to leave Tim in favor of the new object in the boy’s line of sight. Tim, himself, was glad.

“ _Dusty,_ ” Toby commented in awe, Tim catching sight of the boy swiping an ungloved finger over the grimy surface of the first aid kit. Tim would have made a comment on the fact that the little box of helpful supplies was, indeed, dusty, but his focus was more on the scarring of Toby’s hands. It looked like they were mauled by some animal, but all his fingers were still intact and nothing looked broken.

Toby cleared his throat, “So? Are you gonna fix me up or what?”

“Oh. Yea. Sorry, I… got distracted,” Tim apologized, shaking his head and rising to his feet once the two cabinet doors were closed again. Toby hummed in response, the boy sliding back on his glove in a near nervous manner that Tim didn’t have the courage to question. The older man took the kit in his hands, prying it open carefully as to not get dust or the interior contents of the box everywhere. Tim certainly didn’t want to clean before he left this place.

He reached inside, pulling out a roll of gauze and folding it into a square shape big enough to fully (or mostly, at least) cover Toby’s scarring. He drew out adhesive tape as well, setting it to the side as he pulled his knife from his pocket to cut the gauze from its roll. He could feel Toby’s eyes on him again, the boy’s attention focused in on Tim’s hands this time around. Tim cleared his throat as he turned to the brunette, the kid looking at him dully before moving so his left cheek was facing Tim.

“Thank you,” Tim mused quietly, not bothering with wondering if Toby heard him. He pressed the gauze to Toby’s face, making sure to line it up with where the wound was. He cringed internally, asking quickly, “Tell me if I’m hurting you at all – I’ll try and be more careful. This must have hurt like _Hell_ when you got it, though.”

Toby huffed through his nose, shrugging his right shoulder, “Not really. I couldn’t feel it... I still can’t, honestly.”

Tim hummed, nodding his head in a thoughtful manner even if he didn’t fully understand. He pressed the fingers of his left to the sides of the gauze against Toby’s face, his other hand going over to the tape to rip off a few pieces. He pasted one along the top of the bandage, and one below, smiling satisfactorily at his handwork.

As a final measure, Tim carefully ran his thumbs over the tape, making sure it properly stuck to Toby’s skin. He halted briefly, momentarily turning his gaze from the bandage to lock eyes with the killer before him. Toby showed no discernable emotion, not even annoyance when Tim’s actions stalled. He reminded Tim of a shell in a certain way.

Tim cleared his throat, “Okay. We’re done.”

“Thanks,” the kid said blandly, standing from the toilet as soon as Tim moved away from him. Toby casually slid back over to the door, as if waiting for Tim to join him. The older man in question thought nothing of it as he put everything back in its rightful place (the tape and gauze in the kit and the kit itself back under the sink), making sure to brush the excess dust from the counter before he turned his attention back to Toby.

He asked with a raised eye brow, “So, are you going to tell me where we’re going yet, or do I have to guess?”

Toby grinned playfully, shrugging his shoulders after cracking his neck. He jested, “Guessing games are fun, but I’ll save that for the hike down to my car.” Tim was momentarily in a state of awe over the fact that this crazy kid could possibly _drive_ , but his thoughts were pushed aside when Toby continued speaking without missing a single beat.

Toby waved his hand nonchalantly as he leaned against the frame of the door, “Considering it’s gonna be getting cold soon, you might wanna pack some heavy stuff, but then again we _might_ be headed down to Florida and it’s pretty hot down there even in the fall, so…” He trailed off for a moment, as if in thought. He sighed soon after, “Just pack as much stuff as you _think_ you need. We can always buy more if you don’t.”

“Are we taking a plane or a car to wherever we’re headed?”

“Car. _Obviously_.”

“Why not a plane? Those are quicker from my experience with long distances.” Tim argued, Toby’s head snapping upward to look at Tim with a mildly annoyed look in his hazel eyes. Toby voice had a hint of sarcasm, mixed in with what Tim assumed was ridicule,

“If we take the _plane_ , then we’d have to get _fake I.D.’s_ and I get that I’m _rich_ and all, but the more I use my _money_ , the more likely someone’s gonna find _you_ in whatever hidey-hole I decide to place you in.”

Tim huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he moved to pass Toby and out of the bathroom that was becoming more suffocating by the second. He sneered out a reply that he hoped would satisfy the brunette,

“Fine… Let’s just go.”

“ _Finally_ ,” the kid rolled his eyes. “We’re at an agreement.”

 

* * *

 

The forest was nice this season.

Sure, it was hot out and Tim had promptly tied the flannel he wore around his waist the moment he stepped outside, but it was still ever so nice. The birds flitted from tree to tree, chirping lightly once they landed; squirrels scurried along the forest floor as well, picking up little food objects from the ground before carrying them back to their respectable tree holes. Toby had almost managed to step on one of the squirrels, the brunette jumping at least ten feet in the air, screaming madly all the while.

Speaking of the kid, Tim couldn’t help but question Toby on the fact that the boy was wearing a pretty thick, _black_ , turtleneck as they hiked down from where Tim was staying. In response, Toby had merely cracked his neck before shrugging, saying that he _“couldn’t feel it.”_

Somehow, Tim’s once tolerant and content mindset hand down spiraled into Tim grumbling about the weather; about the storm headed their way, most of all. His grumbles also consisted of a lot of curses, which turned into agitated shouts when his pant leg or his duffel bag got caught on a tree and Toby had to use his one of hatchets to get Tim unstuck. When the brunette playfully asked for a _“thank you,”_ Tim had responded with the bluntest of answers he could muster.

“Kids who’re gonna get heat stroke for not taking off their _mother-fucking-turtleneck_ don’t get a _‘thank you’_.”

That mere sentence seemed to shut Toby up for the rest of their short-lived hiking trip.

Tossing his suitcase into the back of the red pickup truck, Tim didn’t pay any heed to Toby as the brunette chattered away about the Collective (Tim unintentionally learning that there were different ranks for the proxies, and that the members of the Collective were at the very top of the ranking system. He also learned at some of the members referred to Him as The Keeper instead of The Operator, which Tim, regretfully, found interesting). He kept his attention on his clothes and toiletries, making sure everything was secure and safe before glancing to Toby, who was inside the truck already.

Tim was hesitant when it came to this kid driving, but Tim wasn’t going to try and shove Toby out of his own car (if it even was _his_ car. Tim wouldn’t have been surprised if boy had stolen it). Besides, Tim wasn’t exactly sure if he could even still properly drive after having crashed the car he used to get here into a tree. Back then, he thought he was ever so lucky to have found the abandoned lodge he called his home for the past three years.

Tim tossed a smaller bag into the back, hearing Toby shuffling around with something in the front of the car. He peeked in at the boy, ready to scold the brunette for probing at Tim’s duffel bag (which filled to the brim items such as his old cell phone, his laptop that was probably long broken, a camcorder and a few tapes that Tim _certainly_ didn’t want Toby looking at). Toby spoke before Tim could manage,

“Hey, I don’t see your mask or – ya know – you’re _signature jacket_ in here!”

Tim grunted as tied the strings of the small felt bag to the handle of his suitcase so it wouldn’t fly away when the car started moving. He grumbled curses under his breath as he opened the door to the passenger’s seat, Toby looking up at him with owlish eyes as he entered.

Tim closed the door behind himself, tugging his duffel out of Toby’s hands and carefully placing it in the small back compartment behind their seats. At first glance, Tim thought that the area was filled with tools, and it mostly was, but his eyes centered around the blatant weapons lying among them. He felt his stomach churn in the most awful way when he imagined what Toby did with those items when he was still in contact with The Operator.

Toby had a questioning look on his pale features when Tim turned back to him, the boy waiting patiently for Tim to answer. Tim huffed, and despite the fact that he originally wasn’t going to reply at all, he responded anyways.

“I burnt them a long time ago,” he eventually said.

Toby hummed – almost in way that seemed understanding – as he casted his gazes away from Tim, his gloved hands reaching down to pick up a small silver key from his side of the car. He put it into the ignition, his hands coming to rest at the steering wheel as soon the car started up,

“After you disappeared?”

Tim nodded solemnly, finding himself occupied with adjusting the AC vent to face at him, “Yea…”

“Well,” Toby sighed. “That sucks.”

Tim glanced to him, raising an eyebrow, “Why? What do you mean?”

It was silent for a while as Toby backed off the dirt road. The boy looked very concentrated on what he was doing, as if he was taking precautions over every little action performed by both himself and the car. Tim had seen drivers like this before. Heavily – maybe even overly – cautious drivers who tended to be new with being able to drive freely, or ones that have gotten into an accident before. He wondered which variation Toby was.

After Toby got to driving in a semi-smooth manner, he answered, “What I mean is… is that the mask and the jacket were like… mementoes to your past. Even if it was the bad part, you still should have kept it as a reminder as to why you’re still here and living.”

Tim hummed thoughtfully, thinking back to the tapes and the camcorder in his duffel, but not saying anything upon them.

Tim briefly wondered what sparked Toby to say something so deep and meaningful, considering the kid was usually hyped up on something or other and only seemed to be serious when he wanted something. There wasn’t anything he could want right now from what Tim assumed, so he asked tentatively, “Do you have something like that?”

Toby’s eyes lit up a bit, the boy still focused on the road ahead, “Yep, I do! My hatchets are one of them – err _two_ , of them. The Operator said that when he found me, they were there too, so I guess you could say that they’re the only thing I have from my past…”

In a way, Toby’s voice seemed wistful, his expression holding emotions that Tim couldn’t seem to describe with his range of vocabulary (and his vocabulary was pretty extensive, _mind you_ ). Toby’s expression was of doubt and somberness, mixed in with a tad of confusion and strange fondness. Instead of venturing into uncharted territory with Toby, Tim asked a lighter question,

“The Operator… _said?_ ”

Toby scoffed amusedly, as if the topic at hand was the most ridiculous thing they could have turned to, “Oh yea! That guy talks to me all the time! I’m His favorite, ya know!” Tim could have sworn he saw Toby wink at him out of the corner of his eye. Toby grinned, “He’s pretty polite as well, but it makes sense considering He’s always dressed so nicely.” Tim had to agree with the nice dressing, but then again, he couldn’t see a faceless monster out to kill him as _“polite.”_

“You seem… _fond_ of Him,” Tim mused.

“Well, of course I am! He saved me from dying in a fire. He’s the only friend I’ve got…”

With that, another silence settled over the two, this one a lot less awkward, but much lengthier as Tim didn’t feel as if he should question Toby any further. He didn’t want to get involved with this kid’s past more than need be, and having the boy tell him about his history with The Operator was not the right way to ensure that he wouldn’t get attached. He mentally reminded himself that this kid was a servant of the being that ruined Tim’s life – he was a murderer, on top of that.

The only sounds left to hear was hum of the vehicle as it drove across unpaved roads with small pot holes and rocks that Toby clearly trying to dodge when possible. Tim appreciated the carefulness of the kid’s driving, even if the boy wasn’t so careful with everything else he’s gone so far. Tim brought a hand up to his face, feeling the little flap of skin where he cut himself earlier. He’d put a band-aid on it if he had any – which he did _not_.

He allowed the side of his head to press against the cool glass of the window, Tim’s eyes remaining unfocused and hazy as he watched the scenery roll past his line of sight. Tall and short trees of green and subtle oranges, yellows, and reds passed, eventually blurring into lovely, rosy shades that Tim somehow found astoundingly calming to his overworking brain. Tim was almost on the verge of falling asleep when Toby’s voice sounded from beside him, bringing him back into the cruel cold of reality.

“ _New Jersey._ We’re headed to New Jersey.”

“What about Florida?” Tim rubbed his eyes, sighing deeply to himself.

Toby heaved a similar sigh, “I changed my mind. It’s easy to catch cruise lines and boats from up there anyhow. Besides,” he grinned, Tim catching a certain glint in the kid’s eyes. “We might even be able to visit my good friend Habit if we make it there early!”

“ _Habit?_ ”

“Yea. Have you heard of him?”

Tim nodded his head slowly, Toby looking surprised, but still maintaining his concentration on driving down a small hill-like area. The hand already on Tim’s eyes moved over his vision again, hoping it would wake him up a bit more, “Yea… I have heard of him. Haven’t heard about him in _a while_ , but…” he trailed off soon after, Toby already asking his own questions.

“Do you know what he is?”

Tim shrugged tiredly, “Kinda? I never really got too invested with any other documentations of The Operator and his… _followers_ – I was mostly focused on the fact that my friends and I were being terrorized by some faceless _freak_ for the past… five years?” Tim allowed a smile to form on his features, even if it were a bit strained. He laughed dryly, “Though, I guess it felt good to know that we weren’t the only ones out there dealing with Him… ya know?”

Toby shook his head when Tim looked to the brunette for a response. The boy tapped his gloved fingers against the steering wheel in a sort of pattern. He hummed thoughtfully, “You know I’ve seen the Marble Hornets channel…, along with TribeTwelve and E-M-H’s, but I can’t imagine what it’d be like to go through having The Operator on your back like that… He’s always been on my side for as long as I can remember,” Toby’s voice turned wistful near the end.

“How long have you known Him?”

Toby was silent for a moment, as if in thought, “Since 2014. So, I _guess_ … about three years now!”

Tim raised a brow, leaning his weight against the door of the vehicle, but still looking at Toby’s profile, “What was your life like before that?”

For what seemed like an eternity, Toby was still and silent, but not in a way that would suggest he was thinking. His eyes were still locked onto the road, his stare blank, as if he wasn’t thinking at all (or maybe even thinking _too much_ ).

By the time the kid spoke again, Tim had turned his focus back to the passing scenery, his thoughts swarming around the idea of having to be in contact with other, _normal_ , people when they got into more populated areas of Colorado. Denver, for example had a lot of people and Tim was sure that we they got there, Toby would be stopping to fill up on gas. Tim also wondered if the kid would make him drive after a while, which Tim wouldn’t have objected to.

Tim almost jumped from his seat when he heard Toby speak, the boy’s voice soft and almost hard to make out over the rumble of the truck. Tim heard him anyways; Toby had his full attention.

“I don’t have any memory of my life before Him… He’s all I have…” Tim blinked in surprise when he saw Toby’s head fully turned towards him, the kid’s eyes filled with raw and unbridled determination as he grinned at Tim. It was as if every emotion swirling in this kid’s brain and concentrated into this singular emotion of absolute, undoubted optimism. Toby voice was still as nasally and slightly squeaky as ever, but it was overshadowed by the intensity of his words and just how serious he sounded,

“That’s why we _have_ to find Him. He’s the _only thing_ that matters to me.”

Tim felt his emotions lift, perhaps brought on by the sheer magnitude of Toby’s own optimistic disposition. A smile curled onto Tim’s lips, the feeling beyond his comprehension as he clapped a hand on Toby’s shoulder with that same smile still on his features.

Tim spoke warmly, “Well then, we better get to finding him then, yea?”

Toby tittered, an equally warm tone in his voice, “Yea!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading so far! Be sure to comment and tell me what you thought of this chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim and Toby drive some more. Tim asks an important question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, yea, sorry this one's a bit late cause I didn't have any inspiration. However, I did some reading and now we finally have something. It's a bit rushed at the end, and I think a messed up a bit in a few places cause I didn't edit it very well, but hey, I wanted to get this one out there since I'm determined to keep this fic going. Enjoy!
> 
> (Also, if you can, notify me if there's any grammar or writing mistakes. Thanks!)

At some point during the long drive, Tim Wright had managed to fall asleep where he sat. Despite this thoughts of being murdered or kicked out while he slept, his mind was in a state of serenity after all the events that had unfolded the previous hours. He wanted to believe that he was tired from all the drama, rather than the fact that Toby’s soft humming was nice.

He learned a lot from this kid.

He learned more than he truly wanted to know about The Operator and the other proxies, along with the fact that if he had stayed a course with what He had planned, then Tim would have been the one to replace Toby. Tim didn’t like thinking about that bit. He didn’t want Toby’s job and he certainly didn’t want anything to do with faceless monsters like The Operator. bad

Then again, if he wanted to get his reward quicker, he would have to help Toby in his search for the being that caused the simplicity of Tim’s life to shift within an instant. He felt a sense of determination well in his chest when he came to the conclusion of what he wanted – no, what he _needed_ to do.

Whilst in a state of half-awareness, Tim had thought he had made a bad decision in falling asleep, before a more rational, more awake side of Tim came to remind him that Toby would be stupid to kill or even fatally harm Tim in any way, shape or form. The thought put him at ease for a moment, the man almost falling back into slumber before the loud, yet dull, sound of knocking woke him up completely.

Tim’s body seemed to skyrocket into the air, the man hitting his head on both the ceiling of the truck and the window on the door in a rhythmic manner that wasn’t very musical to Tim’s ears.

The sound of obnoxious giggling sounded from somewhere behind him, muffled by the window it appeared. He tilted his head back, catching sight of unruly brown hair and hazel eyes brimmed with tears clearly from laughter. Toby Rogers was having the time of his life watching Tim suffer, it was obvious in Tim’s mind.

The boy appeared to be filling up the truck with gasoline, his attire having changed within the last time Tim saw him.

Toby was wearing a faintly stained, oversized undershirt that Tim could have _sworn_ was his own if his vision wasn’t so blurry at the moment. The article showed off just how thin the kid was in actuality. It was almost as if he wasn’t eating much from how the arm holes were far too wide, allowing Tim to be able to see the kid’s ribs from this angle. His grey-tinted skin was decorated with irregular scars and bruises and other countless injuries that Tim could only ponder upon.

When Tim averted his eyes from the kid, he found his attention draw to their surroundings.

They were at a gas station. Cars swarmed in and out through different lanes, muffled honking could be heard from even inside the truck in which Tim resided. He shook his head in a manner that could be interpreted as fond if he wasn’t disappointed in what this day and age had to offer.

Tim never really liked big cities – or cities _in general_. He preferred small towns, farms, or just wide-open areas where you could just take a moment to _breathe_. This place (he assumed they were in Denver by now, considering people and cars alike were at every corner of the scene), Tim couldn’t find any reason why all this would be necessary. Sure, it was tolerated or even _loved_ by many people, but those people weren’t Tim.

He noted that the sun was beginning to set, his eyes having drifted upward to catch a glimpse of somewhere without people or cars or crazy kids who wanted to find faceless monsters. Clouds drifted across the rose-gold space, Tim able to spot animals within the shapes of the foam like atmosphere that was simply too far away to reach out and grasp. Little elephants, maybe a few dinosaur-like formations put Tim’s mind into a sense of unbridled, childish joy.

The truck was still on, due to the rumble and the fact that the stereo’s green lettering could still be seen.

_6:37._

Tim wondered how far into Denver they were, the thought spurring his next actions.

He turned his head to the window next to him, gazing out at Toby. The kid was still filling the tank, a bored look on his features that was honestly putting Tim in a bad mood. The man sighed to himself, rolling down the window on his side of the car to be able to speak with Toby better. The brunette immediately perked up, a teasing smiling on his lips,

“Finally decided to talk to me, Timothy? I never thought I’d see the day!”

Tim waved his hand nonchalantly, “Don’t get your hopes up, kid, I only wanna know where we are.”

Toby gave a heavily offended look, obvious faked for dramatics, however. He scoffed, “What makes you think I’ll just _tell_ you? You’ve been ignoring me for the past,” Toby tilted his head a bit as if to look inside the car. He smiled when he saw what he was looking for, “ _Two hours._ What kind of person ignores their friend for two hours, Timothy?”

“We’re not friends. You’re my… _captor_ , I guess you could say.”

Toby looked as if he were taken off guard, but his emotions didn’t turn sour. He offered a sickeningly sweet grin with a hint of amusement, “Well, looks like you’ll never know where we are now!”

Tim grunted, laying his head on the arms as soon as he folded them on the sill of the window. He watched as Toby shook his head, the boy clicking his tongue as if he was about to chastise a child,

“And to think I was gonna let you drive my baby…”

Tim’s eyes popped wide open, “You’re going to let me drive?”

Toby narrowed his own eyes at Tim, still smiling, “Was, Timothy. _Was._ ”

Tim sighed, silently observing Toby as the kid finished filling up the gas tank. He put the pump back in its rightful place, his expression dulling down to one of boredom and blandness in a near instant. He spoke with no enthused lifts in his vocals when he turned back to Tim,

“I’m going inside to by some shit. Don’t get any funny ideas while I’m away.”

“Wouldn’t _dream_ of it, kid,” Tim replied, hoping that his voice sounded assuring and honest. Toby’s lips curled into a sneer when the word _“kid”_ came from Tim’s mouth, but other than that, the brunette seemed to take what Tim said as truth. The older man still inside the truck watched as Toby sauntered away and eventually into the gas station, all while Tim pondered what exactly made Toby’s emotions change so quickly.

It wasn’t as if he was putting on a joyous, upbeat front, because Tim could usually tell when someone was faking. There was also the fact that Toby always seemed to have a gleam in his eyes the signified just how raw his emotions were – one couldn’t fake something like that.

Instead of dwelling on the subject of what went on inside his captor’s mind, Tim decided that his thoughts would so better with different topics.

He carefully moved over to the driver’s side of the vehicle, settling his hands on the steering wheel, but keeping his feet away from the gas or breaks. He was sure this was what Toby meant by _“funny ideas”_ – driving away from the station, that is. In all honesty, Tim hadn’t thought of trying to drive away from the scene until that moment.

It would be so _easy_ too. All he’d have to do was hit the gas and he’d be home free. However, there was also the fact that Tim only knew that he was in Denver and nothing other than that. He didn’t know these roads or how to get back home wherever he was. Even if he did know, he couldn’t go back there anyways. Toby would just find him again.

Tim shuddered at the thought of dying at the hands of that crazy kid.

Bringing his thoughts of escape to a close, Tim rested his head on the steering wheel, allowing the silence (yes, the silence that consisted of honking horns, shouting people, and Brittany Spears playing quietly on the radio) to overtake him for as long as the cruel God of Silence so wished it to be. He closed his eyes midway through, only for them to fly open moments later when something light, yet solid hit his foot.

In the floorboard of the driver’s seat, pressed against Tim’s shoe, was a smartphone with white casing that looked about ready to fall off. The already rounded edges were scuffed, almost invisible if one were merely glancing at the device.

Tim smirked to himself as he reached downward to grab at the smartphone, turning it over to look at the blank, black screen. Fumbling around for a minute, he eventually turned it on, the screen bright and showing off a high-quality picture in the place of the lock screen.

Tim blinked in awe.

The picture was of Toby and a blonde-haired girl pressed together tight enough to fully be in line of the camera. She had her left arm slung around his shoulders in a casual manner that suggested that they comfortable with each other’s presence in one way or another. She looked awfully similar to Toby, as if they were related. Her facial structure and general disposition was the same as Toby’s, even if her smile was bigger than the brunette boy’s own.

Toby was giving the camera an awkward smile (Tim noticed that Toby didn’t have his facial scaring in this picture and despite his skin still being pale, it wasn’t as grey and the bags under his eyes weren’t as prominent. He looked happy to say the very least), the girl seeming to be the one taking the picture. Tim could only wonder what the connection between these two were – perhaps she was his sister or his cousin.

“Hey, texting and driving it bad!”

Toby’s enthused voice erupted from the passenger’s seat, Tim nearly dropping the device at the suddenness of his captor’s vocals and appearance beside him. He hadn’t heard the opposite side of the car open or even Toby getting in, for that matter. He felt like his heart was going to burst from all the scares he was getting today. How did Tim possibly deserve this?

Tim asked, nearly breathless, “I thought… I thought you were gonna drive?”

“I changed my mind. Plus,” Toby tittered as he settled a plastic bag onto the floor in between his feet. “You’re sitting in my seat and I can’t really move you, now can I?”

Before Tim could muster a reply, the phone was out of his grasp and in Toby’s gloved hands, where it fit so flawlessly in his palm that Tim almost felt the need to make a doubletake. He didn’t exactly know why, but the urge was strong. The older man looked at the younger incredulously, Toby sticking his tongue out, in between his chapped lips, in a playful, yet ever so childish manner. There was a glint of irritation and anxiety in Toby’s eyes, despite the teasing smile he wore.

“Look at the _road_ , not me,” the brunette cooed lowly.

“One,” Tim cleared his throat, “We’re not even driving yet. And two, why am I getting driving advice _from a murderer?!_ ” Tim screeched his final words, merely causing Toby to shush him in a frantic manner, albeit playfully.

Tim grumbled, “I wasn’t even texting… I was… looking at your lock screen.”

Toby tittered, “ _Really_ now?” He didn’t seem to believe Tim, hence the way the brunette went back into the phone and pulled recently viewed pages. Tim smiled smugly to himself when Toby’s cocky expression dropped, along with the electronic device (which thankful landed in the boy’s lap). The kid crossed his arms over his chest, pouting childishly.

“You know where Colby, Kansas is, Timothy?” Toby’s voice sounded, this time appearing to be a lot more normal and less tinged with immaturity.

Tim had to think for a moment, “Yea?”

“Well, that’s where we’d headed – I’ll give you directions when you need ‘em, but other than that, you might wanna get to driving. I have reservations,” Toby smiled in a sickly-sweet manner.

Tim glared lightly at the brunette, huffing as he situated his hands properly on the steering wheel. He glanced out of the corner of his eye when Toby moved, the boy strapping himself in. Tim hesitated before turned his attention back to what his original objective was.

Tim’s muscle memory kicked in when he pressed his foot against the gas, the man allowing is body to go through the motions of steering and adjusting to the speed of the other cars in the large gas stop.

He pulled out of the area soon enough, scoping out a speed limit sign as he began to move with the other vehicles. Toby screamed off Tim’s ear in the process, the boy’s body giving violent twitches and jerks every time Tim would manage to get too close to another car, or if he pushed the brakes just a bit too late at a stop light. The man tuned Toby out most of the time, his mind focused on where they were and how to get to Colby.

He knew the general area, but not like he assumed Toby did. He wondered how long this kid had been in Colorado to know exactly where to go without a map or GPS.

“Don’t just _ignore_ me, Timothy! I’m _trying_ to help you!”

Toby’s voice cracked, Tim tilting his head to the kid to see the flames swirling in his hazel eyes. Tim sent Toby a smile that he hoped replicated the kid’s own sickly sweet one from earlier as he reached a hand over to turn up the volume on the radio. The current station playing was Today’s Hits, Tim completely unfamiliar with the song playing. He didn’t mind it, however. As long as it overpowered Toby’s annoying voice, then he would be completely set and ready to go.

“ _Hey!_ You can’t just turn up the music over me! Music distracts you from – _ooh wait,_ I _love_ this song!”

Tim laughed aloud at the sudden changes in Toby’s mood, his laughter descending into a series of chuckles when Toby proceeded to sing along (or attempt to, at least. The boy wasn’t very talented when it came to singing) to the song playing over the radio. He was passionate about the music as well, waving his hands and making facial expressions that coordinated with the lyrics that he seemed to know by heart. Tim couldn’t help but laugh a bit more at that fact.

Tim shook his head as he continued driving, most of his focus directed on where he was going. Whilst still singing, Toby would give him directions using his hands and the small breaks in between lyrics to quickly explain things that Tim couldn’t grab ahold of with how fast Toby was saying them.

Either way, they were getting somewhere.

As long was Toby wasn’t pestering Tim about his driving techniques every two seconds, then the man might just be able to survive this little road trip of theirs.

Tim almost missed a stop light when he resurfaced from his thoughts. He watched as bigger trucks and cars zoomed past him when he slammed the breaks. Everything went silent for a split second, Tim feeling a vice grip at his upper arm. When he looked to Toby, he saw that the boy’s eyes were wide and owlish, but filled with unrecognizable emotions. The closest Tim could relate them to was shock or utter terror.

Toby wasn’t looking at Tim, he was staring straight ahead, his tongue darting out to wet his chapped lips every once in a while. Tim caught onto the fact that the kid was twitching wildly, which would have looked beyond strange to anyone just glancing over at them. Tim still didn’t know what made Toby so fidgety, and honestly, he didn’t think that he wanted to know either.

Tim looked over Toby once more before a thought surfaced in his head,

_‘Car crash.’_

He didn’t know what spurred the thought. Perhaps it was the fact that Toby shrieked and screamed and scrambled about whenever Tim would do even the slightest thing wrong; or maybe it was the fact that Toby’s grip on his arm still hadn’t loosened and was probably where it was for protection purposes. Tim still wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, whilst Toby, on the other hand, was.

Tim felt a wave of relief wash over him the moment Toby let go and retreated back to his side of the car, the boy bringing his knees to his chest in the most comfortable way manageable in these kinds of seats.  

Tim wasn’t sure if he should question his captor on the subject of car crashes, but his mind was itching for answers. He didn’t want to say what he wanted to know outright, however. If he were too blunt or too demanding, Toby wouldn’t answer. Tim figured he had to ease his way into the subject, stating with something of a lighter topic.

Once the light turned green and they began driving once again, Tim slowly turned the volume down on the radio. This seemed to catch Toby’s attention, the boy’s head already facing Tim’s own. Tim mused carefully, as if stepping on thin ice with only his words,

“Where’d you get this truck from? It’s a nice model.”

He didn’t expect Toby to respond right away, and the kid didn’t. Tim could hear the thoughtful hums from him, however, the boy was undoubtedly thinking about Tim’s question. The man bit back a smile at the implied consideration.

“Well,” Toby began, his voice still having a bit of shock hanging onto the end of his phrasings. “Originally, I was gonna buy this baby from a dealer I knew a while back, but then he tried to scam me, so I just stole her instead. I’ve had her for… maybe a year now?”

Tim nodded understandingly, “I mean, considering how nice this truck is, I would have probably stolen it too.”

Toby snickered at that, albeit a bit forced.

Tim took the chance to ask the question swirling around his mindscape since the start of their little conversation. He inhaled through his nose, “Have you… Have you ever been in a crash, kid?”

He looked to Toby, the kid looking at him with confusion, as if Tim was the one out of his mind.

Toby scoffed, “Of course, I haven’t! Where in the Hell would you get _that_ idea?”

“I don’t know,” Tim shrugged. “It’s just the way you act when you or I are driving. You’re way too cautious for someone who’s never been in a crash before.” Tim offered an uneasy laugh, “I would know; I’ve _been_ in one.”

“You have?” Toby asked, his voice hinting at intrigue that he didn’t even think the kid would hold for such a subject.

Tim nodded, “Yea. It was right after I had just posted the last video on the M-H channel. I drove myself all the way up here with only the money in my wallet and the clothes on my back. I ended up crashing into a tree on the way into the mountains, completely totaling my car in the process.”

“I remember that,” Toby said wistfully. He tensed up soon after spluttering out words of excuse, “I-I mean, I remember that _video!_ Who _wouldn’t_ , honestly?”

Tim allowed himself to release a short laugh at Toby’s frantic words. He sighed lightly when he found himself with new thoughts and notions. He cleared his throat,

“Hey, I have a question.”

“You have _a_ _lot_ of questions, Timothy.”

“Yea, yea, whatever,” Tim waved his hand as to hush the kid. “This is important.” This time, there was no reply from Toby, the boy seeming the heed Tim’s silent commands for once. It was greatly appreciated, but Tim would never show it.

Tim steadied his grip on the steering wheel, his eyes on the road and the other cars, but his focus on Toby and his own thoughts. He asked, “Why did you choose me to – I dunno – help you find The Operator?” Before Toby could reply, Tim continued, “You clearly know a lot more about Him than I do. Plus, you mentioned that there were other people that had connections to Him and could help. So,” Tim shrugged. “Why do you need me?”

Toby sighed, Tim took a moment to look at the boy to his right, choking up when he saw the scene before him.

The sun shone from behind Toby’s head, the rays making him practically glow in the fading light. Trees blurred in the background, shifting the light every now and then, but continuously leaving Toby in a warm glow. There was a bland expression on the kid’s face, his lips parted slightly as he started straight ahead with his body in a state of tenseness. Tim would have normally looked away by now, but the _lighting_. His inner artist was emerging (despite the fact that Tim was but a mere actor in a stupid little movie that ruined his life and led him to sit in a car with a murderer on their way to find a faceless monster).

“You were the first – _one_ of the first, at least.”

Toby’s words brought Tim out of his short reverie, the older man turning his attention back to the road before they were to get into a car crash. He didn’t want to see what Toby’s reaction to his car getting damaged would be, surely Tim would be killed for something like that.

“You’ve been in the presence of my master for almost all your life. You know Him a lot better than I _ever_ will. I’ve got a pretty good idea that you’d be able to feel Him if He were near, which helps _a lot_ with what we’re doing.” Toby snickered, cracking a smile. He exhaled, “You also know how to defend yourself from Him, which I’ve _never_ had to do before.

“Besides that, I’ve always liked how everyone in those videos who encountered The Operator somehow made it out alive. It’s… admirable. So, when He left and didn’t return for a while, I decided to seek any one of you guys out in hope that, since these people knew about what went on behind the scenes _and_ how to deal with The Operator. Honestly,” Toby turned his head to Tim for the first time since he began. Tim tilted his head in return, remaining silent. “Out of your whole _‘friend group,’_ ” he made air quotations. “Alex was the one that I wanted the most. He… seemed to understand everything and knew The Operator probably better than anyone else. Jay was my second choice because he was the one filming and he was also the one involved with you, Alex, totherark, and The Operator. Hood— _Brian_ was my third choice, but considering you sorta killed him…”

Tim cringed at the memory, feeling a wave of cold wave over him as Toby went on.

He said, “Jessica was my fourth choice. She wasn’t too involved with everything like the others, but she still experienced generally the same things. I sought her out and was with her a while before I was forced to run because she threatened to call the cops.” Toby turned his head to Tim, “And then there was you, Timothy.”

“Yea?”

Toby smiled a bit, “You were originally near the top of my list – right under Jay – until everything came to the conclusion that you were dead. So, I believed the rumors and put you at the bottom. I thought you were a lost cause, but I questioned a fellow proxy and they told me that you were hiding up in _Colorado_. And so, I went to you.”

Tim huffed, “What about that Noah guy or the E-M-H gang?”

“I mentioned this before, but I don’t know how Noah is doing. I still get news on Firebrand – who’s _future_ Noah. It’s weird system – so I assume he’s is still alive. With E-M-H, all those guys – the ones that I _need_ – are in some sort of time vortex or _whatever_ and I don’t feel like dealing with trying to get them out.”

“So, I was your last choice, huh?”

“Hey,” Toby scolded playfully. “Don’t twist my words, Timothy, you were one of the first – there was just a… _series of events_ that led to you being placed at the bottom.”

Tim laughed. 

 

* * *

 

 

“This is place?”

“Yep. Just pull up over there.”

“Seems a bit expensive… You sure you have the money for all this traveling, kid?”

Toby laughed – more like _scoffed_ – as he stretched his arms over his head, cracking both his neck and back in the process. He yawned through his words, “Don’t doubt me, Timothy. I know what I’m doing.”

“ _Sure,_ ” Tim uttered quietly as he pulled into an empty parking space in front of the hotel.

The building itself was nice. It was tall, and flat at the top with windows seemingly on every side of it, even if most of them were pretty small. The exterior of the building was made up of greys and soft tan colors that were pleasing to the eye, even if it were a bit questionable considering the desert-like area in which it resided. There weren’t many cars outside it, but there surely were a lot of plants from what Tim could see. Strange; but then again, he couldn’t judge it too much.

Tim was never too picky, especially when it came to places where he could eat, sleep, or just relax for a bit. He never had the luxury of being meticulous before, so why start now?

“Get the bags, I’m going inside,” Toby opened his door the moment the vehicle stopped moving, hopping out soon after (Tim wasn’t sure when the kid had unbuckled himself, but he had done so before jumping from the car’s entrance).

“Why do I have to get the bags?” Tim grumbled as he turned off the car and shoved the keys in his pocket. He wouldn’t want to leave them in the truck – he’s dealt with his transportation being stolen before.

Toby glared at him from outside the truck, his voice a bit muffled by the windows and the fact that the doors were still closed. He uttered in mild frustration, “Do you know the room I have reserved? _No_. I don’t think you do, Timothy.”

Tim didn’t say anything else as he twisted his body, reaching a hand out to grab his duffel from the backseat. His hand touched the blade of a saw that seemed to be rusted over and stained with reds and browns. He winced internally, not wanting to know what it was used for or what those stains were.

He quickly grasped at his duffel, pulling it to his chest in a protective manner.

He pried open his door soon after such, stepping out in time to see Toby’s form retreat inside the building. The kid’s back was hunched, his posture and disposition showing just how tired and frustrated he was. Tim was still a bit pissed at the kid for snapping at him, but he could understand it a bit better by the fact that Toby was probably about to pass out any second now. Perhaps, Tim thought, it would be good for his case.

An asleep Toby meant the more time Tim had to himself and the more time he didn’t have to listen to the kid’s annoying little voice ramble on and on and on about The Operator or the fact that Tim _“didn’t drive well.”_ Tim drove perfectly fine – he was just a bit rusty. The saw in the compartment behind the seats was rusty.

Tim pushed the thought from his mind, allowing other notions and words to flow into his brain and ponder of new things to think of that had nothing to do with the saw in the back seat again.

He huffed quietly to himself as he stared down the bags in the trunk of the car. There were three in all if one didn’t count the duffel in Tim’s arms.

It certainly wouldn’t have been a problem to carry them up if they weren’t heavy. He had to have Toby carry down two of them when they were still back at Tim’s place. Sure, the kid objected and questioned Tim endlessly on why he was bringing so much stuff. Tim insisted on the fact that all of it was important and he begrudgingly explained that he managed to build up his collection of clothes and other artifacts over the years he was _“missing.”_ The kid had seemed to understand, but when he suggested for Tim to leave his duffel behind – which would be the _last_ thing he would do – Tim demanded they take all this stuff just out of spite.

He kept his bag close to him the whole way down, Toby clearly catching on at some point considering how the kid decided to snoop through it when they got down to the truck.

The items in this singular bag were more important than any scrap of clothing or any expensive hotel – one could even say that they were more important than Tim’s own _life_.

To say that least, he wouldn’t be traveling across the country without them.

“Hurry up, Timothy! We don’t have all night!”

Toby’s voice sounded, Tim turning to see the boy peeking his head outside the front door of the hotel. He had a bored expression on his face, mixed in with a bout of frustration that Tim could sympathize with. The kid’s expression screamed, _“I need sleep!”_

Tim huffed through his nose as he carefully set his duffel on the ground near his feet, leaning over the side of the vehicle and taking each bag out of the trunk and placing them on the ground as well. He could feel Toby’s eyes on him as he slid his arms through the straps of a backpack, tossing it onto his back before doing the same with the similarly build carry-on on the other side of his body. He picked up his duffel and carried it on one hand while he held the handle to the suitcase and heaved it up as well.

Tim felt his legs trembling before he even took his first step, but Toby looked amused, and Tim was determined to wipe that look of the kid’s face. Inhaling deeply, Tim strutted up to the doors of the hotel, Toby’s smug expression vanishing when Tim got close enough. At least the kid was nice enough to pry the front door open for Tim, allowing the older man with all the luggage to walk through the entrance with relative ease.

The man barely had a moment to register everything before Toby was ushering him into an elevator close to the front desk.

Tim barely got a glimpse of the hotel lobby, but he saw enough of it to be in a minor state of awe. The floor was made up of ivory tile, the walls beige with plants in every corner and on most tables and desks. However, was caught Tim’s attention was the air that chilled him to the very bone. He shivered when first entering, hoping that with all the stuff piled onto him, they would _somehow_ keep him from freezing his ass off. He remembered the coat he had tied around his waist, wishing to put it on, but knowing that if he tired the bags would fall. He decided to focus on something other than the cold, his mind choosing to ponder on how Toby could handle the low temperatures of the hotel without so much as flinching or shivering. He must have had a high tolerance for it.

Tim entered the elevator with little hesitance, despite the fact that he didn’t much care for the contraptions. They made his stomach flip and his head hurt, but for now, he’d deal with it.

Toby entered soon after him, the kid grumbling incoherent words and phrases under his breath as he punched the number _“4”_ on the control panel next to the automatic doors. Tim didn’t question it, nor did he even breathe a word to the boy. He made a good assumption that Toby didn’t want any noise from him at the moment. As much as Tim would have loved pissing him off, he didn’t want to see the brunette truly pissed.

Tim rocked back and forth of his feet in the corner of the elevator, staring straight ahead and wondering how long it would take for his limbs to lose circulation.

He quickly took notice of the elevator music playing. It was quiet, the song seeming to be a techno rendition of Fur Elise over the speakers in the small room. Tim cringed at the sound, but sure enough, it was over before he knew it and he was already being shoved out of the elevator and yanked down the hall by the brunette whose body still gave off twitches and jerks that looked almost painful in Tim’s opinion. However, neither of them spoke a word.

Toby only halted his physical contact with Tim once they reached door 104, Tim glad when Toby’s hands moved to take a small silver key from his pocket and insert it into the lock.

“I _swear_ ,” Toby said aloud. Tim focused his attention on the boy as the door opened, “If you so much as make a _sound_ that even _remotely_ wakes me up, I _will_ kill you.” Tim didn’t take the threat lightly, especially not considering how intimidating Toby’s gaze was. He hoped that Toby was as tired as Tim assumed he was.

Tim nodded slowly in response to his captor’s words. Toby huffed before entering, the kid shuffling across the beige and grey room filled to the brim with pictures of plants. Tim wasn’t sure if it were his tired mind speaking, but he found it rather funny that wherever you looked in this hotel, there was always going to be a plant or something relative to plants.

He kicked the door shut behind him as he entered after the kid.

Toby himself didn’t bother taking off any article of clothing, nor did he bother to use the bathroom or eat upon his entry. The first thing and the last thing he did was practically sprint over to one of the cream-colored beds – the one closest to the wall with large fluffy pillows like the one across the room from it. The boy’s body hit the bed with a soft thud, the kid not bothering to turn over for air as he groaned into the mattress. Tim cracked a smile as he set his bags down next to the bed he claimed as his own.

Tim observed silently as Toby’s shoulders and eventually his full body relaxed, his breathing slowing to the point of which Tim came to realize that he had fallen asleep. Tim huffed quietly to himself at the sight, shaking his head in a manner that would have looked fond from an outsider’s point of view.

He allowed himself to sit down on the edge of his bed for a mere moment. He inhaled deeply, taking in the silence and serenity of the atmosphere.

And for the first time that day, Tim felt at utter peace.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Observer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> get ready for some sweet, sweet exposition

 July 28, 2017

 

Tim Wright nearly screamed when Toby Rogers shot up in bed in a frantic manner, his hazel eyes wide, and extra owlish than usual. Tim looked on at him with a mixture of shock and interest, holding his coffee mug tight enough to the point of which the heated ceramic was beginning to burn his hands. He took a second to sip it as he waited for Toby to say or do something. When there were no words from the bed-headed brunette, Tim opened his mouth to ask the kid what was wrong, but he was stopped before he could even get a word out.

“Topeka is four hours and twenty minutes from here – if we leave now we could get there and contact The Observer before noon.”

Despite the fact that he was a little shocked by the sudden statement, he replied after a bit of thought and a glance to the clock hanging on the wall near the window, “I don’t think time works like that, kid. It’s already eight-fifty.”

Toby’s alert state lessened as his back hunched against his pillows. He spoke a lot calmer than before, yet this time with defeat coating his words,

“ _Shit._ ”

Tim snickered under his breath as he drank a bit more of the black liquid in his mug. He wasn’t exactly sure how found the instant coffee, but he sure as Hell wasn’t entirely conscious when he did. Tim also wasn’t sure when he started liking it so much either. The flavor wasn’t the best in all honesty, but it kept him awake, so he guessed that was the reasoning behind it. He hummed,

“Want food? I found eggs and bread in the fridge.”

“What could you possibly make with eggs and bre— _oh,_ wait. Okay, cool, _yea_ , make me that.” Toby replied as he brought a hand up to his eyes, rubbing at his tear ducts. Tim huffed through his nose, setting his mug down on the counter and turning towards the little mini fridge in the kitchenette.

The kitchenette itself was small, as implied by the title. The only thing distinguishing the area as a kitchen was the fact that the title changed colors from beige to white where it was. There was also a table near it, the wood a polished Cherrywood that, like almost everything here, was pleasing to the eye.

The counters were grey and made up of fake marble because despite this being a nice hotel, it was pretty cheap and certainly wasn’t made for living in for long.

Tim briefly wondered how long he and Toby would be staying here.

The older man pried open the door to the minifridge, having to sink down to his knees to reach it properly. From the corner of his eye, Toby was rolling around in bed, the boy looking like he was having trouble truly getting out of bed. Tim knew the feeling. These hotel beds weren’t the best, but they were better than the bed Tim had back home and probably better than the kinds of beds that Toby slept on. Tim wouldn’t know, however.

There wasn’t much in minifridge (a carton of eggs, a jug of milk, a loaf of whole-wheat bread, a stick of butter, a singular potato, and a ketchup bottle), but there was enough to make something. He pulled out the carton of eggs, the loaf of bread, and the butter, setting each of the food items on the counter next to the minifridge before carefully closing the door to the cold storing object.

When he came back to his feet, he looked over at Toby.

The kid had finally gotten up from his bed, the brunette cracking his neck along with other, crack-able, body parts. He stretched his arms high over his head, his eyes shut tight and his mouth wide open in a yawn. Tim momentarily allowed his eyes to scan Toby, the boy’s clothes all crinkled and twisted around his body. The lower portion of his stomach showed when he still was stretching, Tim feeling his neck grow hot at the sight of the line of hair descending below the waistband of Toby’s pants. He turned away after that, mentally scolding himself as he focused his attention on making breakfast for both himself and the crazy – yet oddly attractive – boy standing mere feet away from him.

Tim might have been Bi-Sexual as _fuck_ , but be was not going to allow his mind to center itself on a psycho murderer who just so happens to have a very interesting personality and much more interesting bodily features. Tim surely was insane, wasn’t he? This is what happens when you spend three years without any human contact, right?

“Well,” Toby yawned. “We’re going to Topeka either way. There’s a few places I want to check out and I _really_ want to contact The Observer and see what’s going on with the rest of the Collective.”

Tim nodded as he set up the stove, getting down a pan from one of the cupboards and cracking and egg on the counter before putting it in the pan for it to start frying. He cracked another egg and put it in the pan as soon as the current one started to sizzle and become less liquid-y. He undid the tie on the bread as he waited.

Toby snickered, Tim casting a glance over his should to look at the kid. The brunette was seated at the table, his face resting in his hands which we propped up by his elbows on the table’s surface. He teased, “Where’d you learn how to cook, _Timothy_?”

Tim came to presume that despite the play air, the question was still serious. He shrugged his shoulders and he took out two pieces of bread and slid them both into the toaster. He checked on the eggs for a bit, using a spatula to move them around in the pan. He wetted his lips before speaking,

“My mom used to cook a lot when I was younger so I guess I get the skills from her,” Tim trailed off a bit. “And when I went missing I was left with no other choice than to cook or starve.” Tim glanced over his shoulder again, Toby watching him intently. Tim inhaled deeply, smiling to himself and himself alone, “Before that, I guess you could say that I got some tips and tricks from a… _friend_ of mine.”

“Really? Who?”

Tim bit his lower lip, “Um, _well_ , honestly, it’s was Jay. He and I, uh, when there wasn’t anything happening with The Operator or totheark or Alex, then he’d invite himself over to my house or drag me over to his own and he taught me how to cook better. That guy was a _boss_ when it came to food,” Tim found himself grinning by the time he stopped speaking, memories of those time flooding through his head and filling him with an indescribable warmth.

He remembered waking up to the smell of pancakes and bacon. Tim would lay in his bed (or sometimes Jay’s own bed), just listening to Jay humming along to the music playing softly in the kitchen. When he got up to investigate, Jay was always seen in the kitchen, either flipping pancakes or making bacon and eggs. He always got so caught up in whatever activity that he was doing, that he never noticed what was going on around him. For all the times that Tim stood in the doorway watching Jay sway his hips as he flipped pancakes, he should have learned to pay closer attention to his surroundings.

Tim missed Jay.

Toby huffed, though not in a manner that would insinuate irritation, “Were you close? I never really saw any footage of you guys being anything other than just two guys in the same fucked up situation.”

Tim laughed a bit, “Yea, well, we were _pretty_ close…”

Tim flinched when the toast popped up out of the toaster, the older man moving from his station to get two plates from one of the upper cabinets. He quickly and carefully took each piece of toast and put them on their respective plates. He buttered one of them (having pulled out a knife and two forks beforehand), scooping up half the finished eggs with his spatula, putting them on a plate with the buttered toast.

He pivoted to fully face Toby, offering out the plate and fork to the kid who still seemed to be half awake. Toby seemed to cautiously take the plate and fork in his hands, staring down at the meal with interest before he took a small bite of it. He grinned, the tape of holding the bandage to his face peeling off. Tim offer a smile in return,

“Do you like it?”

Toby seemed to think over his words for a moment, he shrugged, “At least it’s better than horse shit.”

Tim was grinning by now, “Well, then, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

With that, Tim turned back to the other food already beginning to cool. He piled the rest of the eggs onto his plate, buttering his toast before shutting off the stove and moving to face Toby as he ate. He didn’t bother going to sit down at the other end of the table. He was comfortable with standing. Plus, the coffee was over here if he wanted more sooner or later. Tim sipped his cooling drink between bites of his eggs and toast.

He eyed Toby for a moment, the kid seeming to struggle with eat a bit. His head was titled back further than what seemed normal for a person, but then again, a big portion of his face was gone, so Tim couldn’t truly blame him. Tim sighed, mentally praying Toby didn’t take his words the wrong way,

“Why haven’t you ever gotten that sewed up?”

Toby blinked dully as he moved a forkful of eggs away from his mouth. His eyes lit up with recognition, “Oh, what, _this?_ ” He motioned to the facial scaring, to which Tim nodded and continued to eat and take drinks from his mug of coffee. He debated on asking Toby if he wanted a cup, but he didn’t want to disturb the kid’s thinking process or get off topic.

Toby was silent for a bit, but Tim was patient.

“I, uh, I guess I just never had the time. The Operator never commented on it, neither did any of the other proxies so I guess I thought it was fine… It’s fine, _right?”_ Toby’s voice gained a certain edge to it, sending chills up Tim’s spine despite the warmth that the food and drink filled his body with. He inhaled deeply before replying,

“Yes. Of course, it’s fine. But I don’t think it would be very… helpful to you. You have to tilt you head back very far to be able to drink anything and I don’t even think I want to know how you eat.”

Toby laughed at that, albeit a bit dry. He said, “I’ve had it for as long as I can remember… I’ll be fine.”

“How long is that?”

“What?”

Tim clarified, “How long can you remember?”

Like before, Toby went quiet for a long while, the boy looking at Tim dead in the eye as if searching for ulterior motives. Tim forced back a shudder at the notion, his fingers gripping tighter around his fork and plate. Toby’s gaze didn’t soften as he said,

“I have no memory from any time before December of 2014. All I know is that there was a fire and The Operator saved me. I owe Him my life.”

Tim nodded slowly.

There was an awkward silence between the two for a long while as they finished up their breakfast (Toby taking more time to finish his thanks to his facial scaring). Tim had gotten halfway through another mug of coffee before Toby came to his feet, a small grin on his lips as he said,

“How’za about you and me head down to Topeka and see what we can find on our good old buddy, The Operator?”

Tim shrugged, “Sure. Just lemme brush my teeth.”

“Oh, yea. Me too!”

* * *

 

Toby and Tim were supposed to be doing research.

Of course, Tim was actually taking this visit to one of the fancier, bigger libraries in Topeka seriously. However, Toby seemed to be goofing off despite the fact that it was the kid’s idea to come here in the first place. He had practically dragged Tim inside this place, loudly demanding that he _had_ to go in there.

Tim complied, because honestly, what better things did he have planned? Nothing, it seemed.

As Tim was reading through books and newspapers, hoping to find something strange going on with the world that could be connected to The Operator, but also casually browsing the pages to see if there was any news about his own disappearance. From what he saw so far, there was nothing for either subject of interest. However, that didn’t stop him from still reading over the newspaper.

Toby, on the other hand, had taken to one of the library computers, seemingly determined to find more information than Tim in less time. Tim wouldn’t be surprised if he did considering it was the Internet. That place was filled to the brim with information on The Operator, Tim just knew it. And it certainly would have been successful, had Toby not have gotten sidetracked.

“The Internet _loves_ me!” Toby gushed happily, Tim sighing in response as he rolled his eyes for the fifth time that day. He shot back bluntly, hoping it stung Toby as much as he thought it would,

“The Internet wants to give you a _death sentence_.”

“Well, well, well,” Toby mused, completely unaffected. “Looks like the Internet also loves our favorite little _‘totheark’_ team too…”

“What?”

Tim looked up from his newspaper, the smirk evident on Toby’s lips as he kept scrolling through the webpages on the computer. Tim had to bite back the urge to shove the kid from the computer chair, knowing that the librarian was probably just around the corner and would be able to hear any cry from distress from Toby – even if the boy faked it for dramatic effect.

Toby tittered, “Yea, seems like they really have a thing for you and Brian – well your _‘alter egos,’_ I should say. You know, a lot of them draw you wrong too! As if you have _blue_ eyes, _ha_!” Toby laughed, his eyes never once leaving the screen, “Your eyes are brown.”

Tim briefly wondered just how observant Toby was to say with such confidence that Tim’s eyes were brown and not any other color. Lucky guess, he supposed.

Tim cleared his throat a bit, “Aren’t you supposed to be doing research so you could – _I don’t know_ – find The Operator and get back to your… _line of work?_ ”

“I _am_ doing research,” Toby hummed lightly.

Tim narrowed his eyes at the kid before him, “Looking at art your fans make of you, is _not_ research.”

Toby defended himself, still without looking away from the computer screen, “Hey, I’m also looking at stuff on you! Our relationship is a frequent topic among the Internet dwellers as well. Apparently, we’re rivals… or lovers,” he uttered the last part a bit quieter that the rest of his speech, but Tim still heard. He chose not to make a comment upon it.

“Besides,” Toby grinned. “I’m going to be contacting the Observer _right now._ I’m mostly just wasting time until he’s free.”

Tim raised a brow, folding his newspaper and setting it to the side, “How are you going to contact him anyhow? Isn’t he like…,” Tim thought for a moment. “A being from a different realm?”

Toby shrugged, clicking around the screen of the computer with his mouse. He yawned, “Yea, but there’s a certain way I can get into contact with him though. It’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it.”

Tim nodded slowly, watching silently as Toby scrolled and skimmed through pages filled to the brim with art of himself and even Tim and what looked to be Jay, Alex, and Brian. He felt his heart clench at the sight.

Tim had known there were fans of Marble Hornets, but not this many. And certainly not ones that liked it so much that they felt the need to draw the character or write stuff on them. Many – _most_ – of these people were very talented from what it seemed and Tim actually felt loved and appreciated when they drew him very similarly to how he actually looked. He wasn’t sure where some of these people got the idea that he had brown hair and blue eyes.

The only problem he had with all of this was the fact that The Operator made a lot of appearances. Every time he looked at that blank face and the long arms and tentacles, he felt fear welling up inside of him, making him shiver by the chill of it. Even when he looked away, the image was still burned in his mind, screaming the name at him louder and louder each time before it all stilled.

Toby was speaking.

“Did you hear me, Timothy?” He was facing Tim, looking a bit peeved, along with a bit tired as well, which was probably normal for kids like him. Tim blinked dully at the brunette before him, shaking his head slowly. Tony sighed heavily, “I said that we need to find Vince Wilson – who’s another proxy. I need to ask the Observer about his location, though.” Toby licked his lips in thought, “He’s about two years older than I am proxy wise,” he gestured to himself. “But he should be more connected to The Operator considering he’s a Berserker. I thought about seeking out Michael Andersen, but that guy’s not with us yet. I guess he’s gonna be joining us at some point, though?” Toby shrugged heavily, seeming to be genuinely confused with the situation of Michael. He seemed sure about whomever Vince was, however. Tim sighed,

“Well, when can you contact the Observer – or _whatever_ his name is?”

Toby perked up, his eyes flicking around before apparently landing on a clock somewhere behind Tim. He grinned, “Right now, actually.”

Tim watched in silence as Toby pulled out a small, black flash drive from his pocket, Tim briefly wondering if this kid kept it on him at all times, before focusing back in on the task at hand. Toby popped it open and put it in the USB port on the desktop computer. It took a few seconds for anything to happen and when it did, the computer began to glitch out, loud white noise coming from the speakers. Tim barked at Toby to turn it down, the brunette hastily pushing at the volume button on the keyboard. When the static died down, the glitching did as well, the screen going black before shifting to white.

And there he was, the Observer, in the middle of the screen in all his glory. Tim felt shivers of fear run up his spine. This guy almost nearly as terrifying as The Operator, which was probably expected considering the Observed worked for Him.

The Observer was all black except for the two white, squared shapes where his eyes would be. Tim assumed they were glasses. The Observer’s body was that of a man’s. His hair reached around his chin and his shoulders where broad. Despite the fact that there were no real detail or shadow, Tim could tell.

“Greetings, Agent Rogers.”

The Observer’s voice was bland and deep, his voice having an echoing effect to it, along with the sense that it could fade into static at any minute. Tim found it entrancingly strange, yet unsettling at the same time.

“It’s _Toby_ ,” the brunette beside Tim deadpanned in reply.

The being on the other line cleared his throat, “Until you reach an equal or higher ranking than my own – which you _never_ will – I shall only be referring to you by what The Keeper designated. Is that understood, _Agent_ _Rogers_?” Toby merely nodded his head in response, this being the first time Tim seeing the young man so downcast and submissive. He almost felt bad.

“Timothy Wright. Hello.”

Tim’s eyes shot to look at the computer screen, The Observer nodding in Tim’s direction, a greeting of sorts, Tim assumed. The older man gave a meek wave, unsure of how to respond to the fact that he was being acknowledged by one of the closest beings to the entity that ruined his life. It was awkward and frankly, Tim felt his heart beat faster with the fear that welled in his chest.

The Observer seemed to turn his attention back to Toby, the being’s once polite tone he used on Timothy turning bland again – perhaps even with a hint of malice or annoyance. He sneered, “You’re looking for The Keeper, aren’t you?”

“Yes!’ Toby exclaimed, leaning forward in his seat. “Do you know where He is?!”

The Observer sighed, “If I did, would you be here asking for Him?”

“I… guess not… Do you have any clue where He is, though? Oh, and what about Vince? Where’s he?” Toby asked, his voice still very much submissive towards The Observer. Tim remained silent and let the two proxies converse with each other. He was still far beyond uncomfortable with being in the presence of The Observer, even if it were over the computer. He got the itching feeling at the being across the line could read his mind, which urged him to think of other things.

“ _Agents,_ ” The Observer crackled, even Tim able to pick on the disdainful tone he used to refer to Toby. Tim still didn’t know why Toby was called an _“Agent”_ of all things or what it meant to be one, but apparently The Observer wasn’t having it. The being in question sighed, seeming to rub a hand over his eyes, “No I do not, Agent Rogers. Even if I did, _you_ would be the last one to know. You Agents may think you’re powerful, but your just as useful as any other proxy.” The Observer grumbled, “And with Berserker Wilson…, he should be somewhere in Springfield, Missouri. _Goodbye_.”

With that, the screen turned black and The Observer was gone. Toby was silent for a long while, Tim not sure what to say in response to the clear distain The Observer had for Toby and what he was classified as. He didn’t bother asking about the classifications, for all he could say was,

“Wow. That guy was an _asshole_. A _polite_ asshole, but still an asshole.”

This earned a laugh from the brunette, albeit soft and still a tad dejected. Toby jested, “Ever since he got owned by that Noah kid, he’s been acting all supreme and shit as if _he’s_ the one in charge of us…” Toby trailed off for a moment, before a smile crept onto his face, “I can’t wait until The Operator sets him straight – which is all the more reason we have to find Him soon.”

Tim’s expression of amusement and mild joy faltered a bit, “Yea…” Tim thought for a long moment as Toby pulled out the flash drive from the computer and carefully placed it back into his pocket. Tim wanted to question what exactly that device was, but there were other questions on his mind at the moment. He pursed his lips,

“The, um, the Observer mentioned that you were an Agent and that, that Vince guy you were talking about was a… Beserkor? What does that mean?”

Toby smiled, “ _Berserker_. Which means that he’s two ranks lower than me _and_ it also means that I can get closer to finding some Hallowed proxies that might be able to help us out too.”

“What do those mean? You never explained the titles,” Tim pointed out.

Toby hummed, “Well, the Hallowed are the lowest of the low. They’re pretty much little puppets for The Operator. He uses them for hoard attacks and when He’s not they’ll look like lifeless bodies.” Tim cringed, but Toby merely continued on, “Berserkers are next in line and my buddy Vince just so happens to be one of them. I personally think that they should be right under Agents, but they aren’t. They’re basically people who The Operator found and made into proxies and they have _just_ _a sliver_ of free will, but not really. They’re used for going and getting stuff, setting traps – the like.”

“Why aren’t you one of those then?”

Toby grinned this time, “Because _I_ am so much better than them.” He spoke with a sense of pride, “Sleepers are above them. They’re like Berserkers, but they don’t know that they’re proxies. It’s like they fall asleep or something and they’re a fully different person. And when they wake up, they don’t have any memory of what they did while _‘asleep’_ – and if they do, then it’s like a vague recollection or a dream to them.”

Tim felt his body grow cold at the description. He knew for a fact that he shouldn’t be worried about anything that Toby was saying, but it still put him on edge and got him thinking about the past – the past he had with Marble Hornets and The Operator.

Toby expression dropped, his open mouth closing as a frown settled on his features. He spoke softer, Tim looking to the boy too see his calm gaze, “Timothy, if you’re thinking what I think you are, then,” he exhaled slowly. “You don’t have to worry. You’re not like me or like _any_ of us. _Trust_ _me,_ I would know, and so would have The Observer.”

Tim felt a bit of relief at Toby’s words, but there was still a bit of doubt.

He never remembered what he did as Masky – that name made him shudder on the spot – and he certainly didn’t think he _wanted_ to remember anything about being like that. From what Jay had filmed and took note of, Tim as Masky did things that Tim would have never done. He had attacked Alex, who was once his friend, stood up to The Operator and was over all, confident, strong, and powerful in all the ways that Tim wasn’t. The only remotely heroic thing Tim did was consciously shove Hoodie out the window of a tall building, thus effectively killing his closest friend next to Jay.

“You can… You can go on, Toby,” Tim rubbed his hand across his eyes and forehead. “I’m fine.”

“You sure? You seemed pretty shaken—”

“ _I said I’m fine._ ” He spoke a bit firmer, possibly colder, but he didn’t shout.

There was silence for a long while. It was tense. It was chilled. Neither of them liked it.

Toby cleared his throat, his voice a bit harsher as he continued on like nothing happened. They both knew otherwise, however, “After Sleepers, there’s Agents like me. We are the most powerful out of the rest of the proxies in our… _category_. We do most of the work out of all the other proxies – though I might be a _bit_ biased. We’re normally creative and can devise plans and make smart decisions.”

Tim would have made a joke on the description of Agents not being the same as Toby’s characteristics. He stayed silent, however.

Toby waved his hands around as he spoke, “Last are Revenants. They are a… hivemind of sorts and they’re all far more powerful than any normal proxy. Once an Agent has come far and as proven their worth, then The Keeper will take their lives and they will be brought back and ascend to Revenant status. And with that, they will be gifted with powers beyond your wildest imagination.” Toby’s voice became wistful as he ended his sentence. Tim exhaled softly,

“Are you scared?”

Toby turned to Tim, “Of what?”

“Of dying.”

Toby replied without hesitation, “Nope. Never. Death is something that doesn’t matter to me. Besides, why worry about it if I’m just gonna come right back?”

“What about the people you kill? They don’t come back.”

At this, Toby went silent, Tim seemingly having stumped him. Toby sighed after a moment, “It… never really bothered me when I started doing it – probably cause I can’t remember a time where it wasn’t a part of my life,” he laughed dryly. “But… I guess sometimes I feel bad. Some of the people I kill are innocents and haven’t done anything wrong besides get too invested with The Operator, but others – others are worse than me.”

Tim crossed his arms over his chest, furrowing his brow, “How so?”

Toby waved his hand, “Ya know… government officials who hate certain minorities, who try to contain proxies so they can experiment on us; the usual.”

“You…,” Tim blinked for a moment. “You’ve killed government officials?”

“Yep. I sure have.”

“Wow.”

Toby laughed after a moment of awkward silence that seemed to follow the two everywhere they went, shaking his head, “Do you wanna get out of here? I know a good place where we can get something to eat. Though,” Toby tapped his chin of stubble in thought, “We could always just go straight back to the hotel, pack up our stuff and then head to find Vince… He should have a proper house down where he is.”

Tim shrugged lightly in response, glancing at the computer screen Toby had been using. He looked at the time in the bottom, right corner. It was 12:08pm.

“Hotel,” Tim said at last. “Food can wait.” He licked his drying lips, humming, “How far is Springfield from here?”

Toby gave an exaggerated shrug, his whole-body twitching in time with the action, “Guess we should find out then, huh, Timothy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> notify me if there's any spelling/grammar errors, thanks!  
> and also, please comment cause i love hearing people's responses on this, may it be good or bad or anything in between!  
> (EDIT: i went back in and fixed a little bit about Vince cause i was stupid and didn't line up the dates correctly when it came to Vince being proxy. he's now older than Toby -- proxy wise -- instead of younger like it was before)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small filler with a bit of progression between captor and captive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhhhh im so sorry for never updating this and for, well, yaknow, not actually stating that i was in a hiatus of sorts. ive been having writer's block on my actual book, but i still wanted to write, so this was one of my options.

After getting all of their stuff back in the truck, Tim Wright was finding himself tired of sitting in the vehicle and they weren’t even halfway to their destination. Tim released another groan of dissatisfaction when they Toby drove over a bundle of rocks.

“Oh, chill the fuck out, Timothy, we’re almost to Micky-D’s.”

“It’s _McDonalds_ , Toby. They named it that for a reason,” Tim argued aimlessly.

Toby gasped, his hands visibly tightening around the steering wheel, “You better not be telling you’re one of those guys that calls Wally-World, _Walmart_ too?” The kid lowered his voice at the proper name of the store, perhaps mocking Tim, who did, indeed, refer to the store as _“Walmart.”_ Before Tim could manage a response, Toby laughed sardonically, “I bet you even like _pineapple_ on _pizza!_ ”

Tim spat, “Pineapple on pizza is amazing, _thank you very much!_ ”

When the truck jerked abruptly, Tim grasped onto anything that could steady himself as Toby pulled over on the side of the road. Tim winced internally, when his arm slammed against the door. He glared at Toby, only to fine the boy’s eyes aflame. The kid pointed at Tim threateningly, though the semi-fuzzy gloves he wore lessened the threat somehow,

“I will fucking kick you out of this car and leave your fat ass here to rot if you so much as _think_ of pineapple pizza, _Timothy_.”

Tim gulped, holding his hands up in defense, “Fine, fine, okay. You win…” Tim eyed Toby in silence for a moment, a grin forming on his lips when a thought sprung up in his mindscape, “… We could always get some waffles instead. I hear you like those.”

Toby looked as if he was about to strangle Tim, but after a moment, the fire in his eyes died and his snarl was replaced with a haughty grin, “So you _do_ look into all those fanworks! I knew you were into that shit!”

Tim groaned dramatically, yanking at the handle to the locked door, “Get me out of this hell hole, I can’t deal with this any longer – I’d rather have you yelling!”

Toby laughed, and with a roll of his hazel eyes, moved back onto the road. Tim groaned quietly at the bumps and harsh movements the truck made as it did so, but he didn’t complain anymore, for he knew it would be a constant occurrence considering the passionate nature of this kid.

A silence filled by only the soft radio came over them and Tim, despite his better judgement, chose to feed the smug, jubilant monster that was Toby Rogers, “Ever heard of the, uh…, _goddamn_ , what do the kids call it? It’s like… Creepy— _something_ to do with spaghetti?”

Toby grinned wide, but didn’t look to Tim. As always, he kept his eyes on the road and nothing else, “ _Creepypasta?_ ”

“Yea,” Tim breathed out. “ _That_.”

“Who’s your favorite character?” Toby asked, holding back a laugh that Tim could blatantly hear. It looked like he was trying too hard, the older man couldn’t help but smile. Tim wrinkled his nose, crossing his arms over his chest as he thoughtfully glanced off to the side,

 “I can’t think of any of their names right off the bat, but I guess I like that one about that girl who’s trying to kill that smiley guy for whatever reason.”

“Jane the Killer?” Toby raised a curious, thick brow, a broad, jovial beam still gracing his chapped lips.

Tim nodded and Toby somehow grinned wider, a soft laugh falling from his lips that made Tim oddly feel warm and… _safe_. The kid said in agreement, “She’s pretty cool. Hella hot too – I really like some of the drawings people do of her. My favorite character would have to be Eyeless Jack, though – yaknow, the guy that eats people’s organs while they’re asleep?”

Tim vaguely remembered something like that. He shrugged, “Sure.”

“He’s awesome!” Toby’s eyes glimmered, passion laced in his mildly nasally voice, “I gotta say he’s the most badass out of the entire gang, then comes _me_ , of course,” and there was the snarky, prideful attitude again. Tim found it both annoying and entertaining, maybe perhaps a bit endearing. What could he say, he’d have to get used to Toby eventually – why not start now?

“Oh yea?” Tim went along with it, scratching his elbow idly.

“Yea!” Toby exclaimed, “ _Also_ , yaknow, it’s hella weird to read fanfiction about myself. Sometimes people get me right and sometimes people don’t, but it’s still fun either way!” Toby giggled and glanced to Tim, “In almost every fic that involves the so called _‘Mansion,’_ you and I are involved.”

“Really?”

“Really!” Toby nodded, “Yea, you’re typically not how you are now, but rather… murderous and… cheesecake loving… but, hey, it’s _fiction_ ; can’t fault the kids for just not knowing us properly.” He grinned sadistically out onto the road, turning into the McDonald’s drive through, “Even if some of them would rather like to _know_ us.”

Tim cringed, “I don’t know what you’re implying, and honestly, I don’t think I want to know.”

“You don’t.”

“Well, thank you for not telling me then,” Tim said slowly.

With a light, cheery tone, Toby mused back, “No prob, Timothy!”

When they made it up to the drive through window, Tim ordering a Big Mac and a large Sweet Iced Tea before Toby proceeded to order the same thing, but with a large Dr. Pepper instead. After they had gotten and paid for their meal, Toby parked on the side of the road, watching the cars go by in a seemingly aimless manner as Tim dug around in the McDonalds bag to get his sandwich and enough napkins.

After a moment, Toby did the same and Tim couldn’t help but notice he was still wearing the bandage on his face. From the angle Tim was at, he could see the scarring under it and it made him hurt somewhat inside imaging just how hard it must be to deal with that.

He knew what Toby had to do to properly eat and drink and that must be annoying no matter how long Toby’s been dealing with the scarring. Just as Toby went to take a bite of his own sandwich, Tim spoke up,

“How about I sew that up for you?”

Halting in his actions, Toby met Tim’s eyes, looking at him with confused hazel hues, “What?”

“Your scar,” Tim clarified slowly, as to not piss the kid off. “I’m not the best as sewing, but I’ve sewn Jessica and Jay up a couple of times after some… _encounters_ , so, I would say I’m decent. I could sew up your scar, so you can uh, actually eat and drink properly, yaknow?”

He fully anticipated Toby to get defensive and angry but was pleasantly surprised when his emotions turned to mere apathy instead. The kid shrugged, not showing too much emotion on his face or in his owlish eyes as he bit down on his burger, the bandage doing a good enough job of keeping the food in for now. Toby huffed through his nose and with his mouth half-full, he said, “Yea, sure whatever. I got a first aid in there—” he motioned to the glove-box “— so if you want at me, better get it out.”

Tim was curt in opening the compartment and taking out the first aid, saying to Toby that he’ll sew him up at their next hotel stop, to which Toby merely nodded along. Tim tried not to take too much offense to Toby’s dismissive behavior as he kept the aid in his lap and ate his sandwich quietly.

He listened to the music and watching the cars go by, unable to recognize the song playing, but able to recognize generally where they were.

Glancing to the sky, Tim saw the dark storm clouds circling in the atmosphere, slowly shrouding the afternoon blue of the sky into a dreary darkness that wasn’t particularly welcomed. He gulped down a few mouthfuls of Iced Tea, wiping his greasy face with a napkin before turning to Toby, who was done with his meal and fiddling with his phone.

He debated making conversation with the kid, but it seemed a bit of to talk about the weather of all things. Maybe, with the kid being on his phone, he knew if it was going to rain or just be ominously cloudy the rest of the day. Tim looked at him, seeing the bored expression on the younger man’s ashy skin as he scrolled through what looked to be a News feed on his phone. He looked like he was close to looking pissed off, though Tim wasn’t too big on testing that assumption.

“What do you want?!” Toby snapped, looking up and meeting Tim’s eyes with wrathful fire dwelling behind his hazel irises, “Quit fucking _staring_ at me!”

Never mind, he already made him angry. May as well ask now. Tim cast his eyes to the side, “Do you think it’s gonna rain?”

Glaring at Tim, Toby’s eye twitched along with his right shoulder as he leaned forward a bit in his seat to get a better look of the outside. He huffed in a seemingly frustrated manner, “Yep. Sure looks like it. We still got a long way to drive though, so we better get a move on before the storm hits. Okay, _Timothy?_ ” His words felt like poison to Tim’s ears and the older man couldn’t help but shudder at the rapid changing emotions of this kid. He wanted to ask why he was like that, but he felt that to be too personal of a question and that Toby would take offense to it.

Toby took offense to everything in this state, as far as Tim was aware of.

“Are we headed directly to Springfield?” Tim asked cautiously, honestly not in the mood to be yelled out at the moment.

Toby shrugged, putting the car in drive and pulling back onto the road and eventually, back onto the main highway. The twitchy kid sighed, as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders and he didn’t know how to remove it, “Depends on how the traffic is, Timothy, I may be magical, but the one thing I _can’t_ do is control the density of the motherfucking traffic.”

“I wasn’t saying you _could_ control the traffic,” Tim said firmly. “I was just asking a question.”

“You ask a lot of those,” Toby scoffed under his breath.

With that, their conversation stopped, and Toby turned up the music loud enough that it drowned out any further conversations. Tim understood through his actions that he wasn’t in the mood for talking, so he sighed and kept his eyes glued to the window and the dark, yet ever fluffy clouds.

He fell asleep staring up at the sky and when Tim woke up next, Toby looked like he was a zombie.

Not that he already didn’t look like a zombie with the bags under his eyes and the greyish skin and even the gruesome scars, but he was starting to look even more like a zombie.

His owlish, hazel eyes were half-lidded and glazed over. He blinked slowly and drank what remained of his soda as if it was the only thing keeping him going. On top of that, Tim couldn’t help but notice the more frequent twitches coming from the kid, and the way he cracked his neck and his wrists and his knuckles periodically.

Last time he checked the clock, it was 12:58pm and now it was 2:22pm.

Taking pity on the kid and happening to generally know where Springfield was from here when he looked out the window, he yawned, sitting up as he reached a hand over to touch Toby’s shoulder. “Hey,” he began slowly, as to not alarm him. “Lemme drive.”

Toby glared at him, Tim mentally rolling his eyes at the fact that the kid was still pointlessly angry at him, “No. Fuck off.”

Tim sighed, putting the first aid now in the floorboard of the passenger seat, “You’re about to fall asleep at the wheel, kid. That’s gonna get us both killed and then we’ll _never_ be able to find The Operator.”

The mention of Toby’s Keeper made the kid’s eyes widen the slightest, a look of understanding briefly crossing his features as he begrudgingly pulled over to the side of the highway. Many cars past them, but Tim paid them no heed. The dark clouds that were in the sky from before had spread more and almost took up all of the mid-day blue, and when he exited the vehicle he could feel the wind starting to pick up as well.

He rounded the car, going the opposing direction as Toby as to not piss the kid off more than his mere existence was already. He hopped in the driver’s seat and waited there patiently as Toby put on his seatbelt before putting the truck back in drive and heading out onto the road again.

A long silence passed between them.

“… Thanks,” Toby said after a while. Had the music not been turned down at some point, Tim may not have heard him, but right now, he surely did hear Toby’s words. He smiled a tad, and even though he didn’t look at the kid, he still aimed his upturned expression towards him,

“You’re welcome,” Tim said softly, even if he wasn’t exactly sure what he was being thanked for in the first place.

Toby was a very strange kid after all.

And Tim couldn’t help but find that endearing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inform me if there's any spelling or grammar mistakes and comment down below and gimme some constructive criticism or some ideas/suggestions for future chapters!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vince Wilson enters the stage

Toby Rogers was fast asleep in the passenger seat.

His thick, messy brown hair stuck up in every direction against the window and seat, bangs brushing against his button nose and making the kid wrinkle his nose in such an adorable way that Tim had to make a doubletake. Toby’s eyes were shut, and his face looked serene as he slept, as if he wasn’t dreaming at all. Even so, the kid’s arms were wrapped around his own body, as if unconsciously protecting himself from whatever fears he had. Tim wondered if he did that often.

With the way that Toby acted towards Tim Wright’s driving, the older man was surprised Toby even let himself sleep. Despite the kid admitting that he couldn’t remember his past, Tim was confident in saying that he’d been in a car accident at some point.

For a split moment, he pondered whether or not he could help Toby regain his memories.

Brushing off the thought, Tim turned into the city of Springfield, sighing softly at the sight of the light atmosphere the place brought out as he drove deeper into the city. Everything still looked endearing and nice even if it was raining; tall buildings somehow still managing to wrap into the warm (yet ever wet) atmosphere. Quite honestly, Tim wouldn’t mind living in a place like this.

In reference to the rain, it wasn’t pouring, thankfully, but it would be soon if Tim was correct. By the gradually sinking arrow falling to a sinister red _“E,”_ the truck would be running out of gas soon, which posed a problem. Not to mention that Toby was still sleeping, and Tim didn’t want to wake the kid up with all his moving around when they reached a proper gas station. Or, well, Vince’s house.

Tim recalled what The Observer had said about the other proxy, and the man said nothing about where Vince Wilson was _exactly,_ so Tim had no idea where to stop to look for him. He’d ask the Toby when he woke up, but for now, he kept driving until he found the nearest gas station with the most reasonable of prices. He parked in the lot and shut off the truck, the music that was quietly playing in the background vanishing into the silence and the light rain sounds taking its place.

The absence of the music made everything feel more real somehow, shone light onto all the life choices that Tim had made the past couple of days.

He’d been alone and now he wasn’t. He’d been hiding from The Operator, and now he was searching for Him. He’d been missing something from his life of solitude and now, as he glanced over to Toby’s sleeping form, the feeling was fading from his heart and filling with something different.

Who knew a crazy kid like Toby Rogers could get through to him.

Nevertheless, the sensation was nothing more than the realization of, _“this kid isn’t so bad,”_ that made the feeling soften, rather than the potent feeling of having a crush, or perhaps, even falling in love. To fall in love with Toby Rogers, Tim thought, would mean certain death.

But on the topic of the wonderfully terrible feeling of love, Tim remembered falling head first into such an emotional state, a burst of warm swelling in his chest the instant he realized, making his face go red and his palms go sweaty all at once. He remembered wanting to hug and kiss the object of his affections for hours on end and never let him go.

Him.

Tim’s heart clenched at the thought of _him._ The thought of Jay Merrick and the thought of everything that happened because Tim was too stupid to notice the signs. To stupid to notice that his lover needed help and too scared to do anything productive.

He released a shaky breath as he pressed his forehead to the outer-portion of the steering wheel, hugging himself tight and close as if in a dire attempt of mimicking the feeling of Jay’s arms around him. It was never as warm, never as homey, and certainly never as soft and precious as Jay’s hugs.

And eventually, over the absence of those magnificent hugs that swept Tim Wright into a state of loving warm, he’d forget what they felt like. He’d forget the feeling of Jay’s lips on his skin, the manner of which he looked at Tim that set a fire in his heart; he’d forget the small touches and the searing words of pleasure muttered against his lips late into the night. He’d forget the twining of fingers on a cold day, the brush of nails at his scalp, but in all of it, he’d forget Jay Merrick.

Because Jay Merrick was dead, Brian Thomas was dead, Alex Kralie was dead, but Tim Wright? Tim was alive, but only just.

Until he met Toby Rogers, that is.

Now, he was beginning to feel like he was living again, rather than just being alive and stationary, hiding out in the middle of the forest in Colorado hoping desperately that his absence would deter The Operator from ruining the lives of the remaining people he cared for.

He’s on a road trip with a crazy kid who kills people for a living and _works_ for The Operator, but somehow, that fact is starting to become more fascinating than frightening.

And maybe that was something to be thankful for.

Tim breathed out a slow sigh, lifting his head just enough to look over the dashboard. People walked in and out of the gas station; an old lady stepping out with an umbrella and a bag full of chips and juice, and a young man and woman holding hands as they scrambled in to the store and out of the rain. Tim couldn’t help but smile at such an insignificant sight, wondering where the old lady was going after this and wondering if the young man and woman were together, and if so, how long?

Leaning back, Tim looked to Toby just in time to see hazel eyes slowly opening, blinking dully and still hazy with sleep. Tim could almost see the remnants of a dream in the kid’s eyes, something still and monotonous, but nevertheless something that wasn’t bad. He doubted Toby would remember his own dreams with the kid’s history of poor remembrance, so he wouldn’t bother asking.

Toby had a bland look on his face, eyes still half lidded as he furrowed his brows, glancing around the truck cautiously. With a tired croak, he stated rather than asking,

“We’re not moving.”

“I stopped the car. We needed gas and… I didn’t want to wake you with all my commotion,” Tim said slowly. He kept his voice light and soft, talking as if trying to sate a temperamental child. In a way, that’s sort of what he was doing already.

Toby nodded, humming in affirmation. He turned to Tim fully, hand reaching around in his back pocket before he pulled out his wallet. He counted out four 10’s before offering them to Tim, “Go inside and get us some snacks. I’ll get the gas.”

Taking the money, Tim raised a brow, “Any requests?”

Toby smiled, but only slightly, “Surprise me, Timothy.”

The older man couldn’t help but smile in return, somehow the kid’s upturned lips bringing him a certain joy he hadn’t experienced in three years.

* * *

 

Tim returned to the car with 14 dollars’ worth of jalapeño chips, a pack of cigarettes, two Root Beer slushies, and three packs of skittles.

Toby was very pleased with the arrangement of it all, fawning especially over the skittles which he promptly ripped open and poured half a pack in his mouth. Tim cringed at the sight but smiled, nonetheless. If Toby was happy, then he’d consider his tiny shopping spree a success.

He attempted to offer back the remaining 26 dollars, but Toby merely brushed him off and told him to keep it as pocket money, to which Tim didn’t object to.  
He was happy to just sit in the passenger seat and munch on his chips and sip his drink, enjoying the taste on his tongue. I’d been so long since he’s had this kind of food, having forced himself to live off canned fruits and other types of canned foods. Soda was a delicacy of sorts even if he offered Toby some when he first arrived, so he stuck with water most of the time.

He missed greasy foods and sweets. Those were just some of the things that he’d miss once he’d return to solitude.

Toby eventually got back in the car soon enough, humming happily as he turned on the truck. He squealed joyously when a peppy pop song that he recognized came on the radio, the kid turning it up gradually. Of course, the older man didn’t recognize the song at all, but it was a very upbeat song about being happy and dancing and frankly, Tim didn’t think Toby was into this kind of stuff. Even so, he didn’t mind even if it was a bit of an annoying song as long as Toby wasn’t pissed off all the time.

As the kid drove out onto the main road, Tim asked, “So, what kind of music do you like?”

“What do you mean?”

“I _mean,”_ Tim chuckled as he clarified. “What’s your favorite band? What’s your favorite song? Favorite genre?” He didn’t know why he was interested in what Toby was into, but he already asked, and he couldn’t take it back now.

Toby hummed as he took a long sip from his slushie, looking to be deep in thought as he eyed the road, “Well… I like a lot of pop music and some rap, but I don’t really have a favorite of… anything, I guess.” He glanced to Tim, “What about you, Timothy? What kind of sick beats do you listen to?”

Tim wrinkled his nose, “I wouldn’t call them, _‘sick beats,’_ but I like Jazz and Classic Rock… maybe some Country too.”

“I mean, you’re from Alabama, so it makes sense,” Toby shrugged. Tim laughed and shook his head in a near fond manner,

“What does me being from Alabama have to do with liking Country music?”

Toby picked out a couple of chips and shoved them in his mouth, Tim wondering how much it would hurt if his injury was new and he got spicy chips in it. Toby washed down the chips with a big gulp of his slushie.

“You’re a southerner, so you’re sorta obligated to like southern sounding music. All you southerners got like a hivemind going on – kinda like The Collective,” he smiled pleasantly. “But like… _not_ – and it’s Country oriented.”

“Just because I’m southern, I’m not a fucking hick, Toby,” Tim said, his tone edging on playful.

“Did I _say_ you were a hick, _Timothy?_ ” Toby moved to stop at a red light, actually turning to Tim this time with a condescending look in his eyes, but an ever-present smile on his chapped lips.

Tim didn’t reply, but as the time the red light dragged on, Toby picked up his phone and with quick actions with his thumb, he got onto YouTube. Tim furrowed his brows, leaning slightly to get a better look at what the kid was doing, but Toby quickly tilted the screen away from Tim with a snarky look on his face.

“Here, I’ll playing something special; _just for you,_ ” Toby said, his tone sickly sweet as he pressed play on his phone. Immediately, without having to have a cord attached to the radio at all, music started to play in the truck.

The opening cords began to play, and Tim began to cave in on himself, trying to hold back a laugh at the obviously southern sounding music. He didn’t recognize this song until the unmistakable lyrics of, _“Baby, lock the doors and turn the lights down low,”_ came out of the speakers.

Only then did he crack up laughing, almost too engulfed in the hilarity to hear Toby’s childish giggles and slight wheezing from the other side of the truck. He leaned his head against the dash, hugging himself in a fruitless attempt of preventing himself from being so loud. Of course, it wasn’t effective in the slightest.

And he only laughed harder when he heard Toby attempting to sing along to the lyrics. He missed a few lines, but he got it out good enough to let Tim know that the kid had listened to his song a lot more than someone who doesn’t like Country music should.

He looked over to the kid with tears in his eyes, the serene, yet equally jubilant expression of Toby’s own making Tim calm down somewhat. He cleared his throat, seating himself properly in the car before asking a well needed question.

“So, how do you know where you’re supposed to be going? I don’t remember The Observer saying anything more than that Vince guy just… yaknow, _being_ in Springfield.”

“Don’t worry your cute little ass, Timothy,” Toby mused in response, Tim’s face feeling hot at the expression the kid used. “Obbie sent me a text earlier.” Tim automatically assumed that _“Obbie”_ was _“The Observer.”_

Confused, Tim asked, “He… _texted_ you?”

“Hell yea,” Toby grinned. He winked at Tim in a sly manner, “Even us Collective gotta stay relevant and hip with the kids.”

“But you are a kid,” Tim retorted.

Toby merely waved a dismissive hand, “Details, details.”

He drove until they reached a little suburban area where houses lined the streets, all of them resembling each other constructional wise, but the colors varying drastically, from red shades to blues, to yellows and browns. Tim found it charming in a certain way and his earlier thought of wanting to live here only became more potent. He suppressed it quickly, however.

As they drove through the area, the houses slowly began to dwindle down until trees took up most of the area, along with tall grass and various types of trash along the sides of the street. It was unattractive, but at least the trees still gave off a nice woodsy atmosphere in the fading light and steadily growing rain.

Eventually, Toby stopped in front of a dirt driveway that led up to a few houses on either side of it. He turned off the truck and stepped out of it, shoving a half-empty pack of skittles in his pants pocket and drinking one last big gulp of his slushie before shutting the door behind himself. Tim snickered at the action, rolling his eyes as he moved to get out of the truck as well.

Having put his signature hoodie on at some point, Toby flicked the hood up and over his hair, effectively shielding himself from the wetness of the atmosphere. Tim felt a little jealous, but regardless, followed Toby more obediently than he would admit.

They came upon a small green house with a shabby roof and a beat-up truck in the muddy driveway, Toby smirking in an almost sadistic way as he stared up at the house from the edge of the property, “I can’t wait to see the look on Vince’s face when he sees me.”

“Why?” Tim couldn’t help but ask.

Toby snickered, tilting his head to Tim, “The dude’s scared shitless of me and every other proxy The Operator has. He doesn’t want to be involved with any of this, but yaknow, he’s gotta.”

Tim hummed in acknowledgement and since he was already asking questions, he didn’t bother holding back, “What if he can’t help us?”

“Oh, he can,” Toby affirmed. “Even if he can’t get ahold of The Operator any better than you and me, he still knows some German and we can use him as a translator when we get to Germany.”

Tim merely nodded, and they moved to ascend the short set of rickety steps leading up to the cramped porch the house possessed. Even though Tim wasn’t too particularly picky about where he stayed, this was a little too much for him. He was used to country houses and farms, maybe even the occasional mobile home, but this was a lot to take in; he didn’t like it, to put it plainly.

Tim didn’t trust this place. It had a bad energy. In a state of fear driven precaution, he reached to his belt, steadying a hand over his sheathed knife just in case of a fight breaking out. Above the distrust he had for the area, he didn’t trust proxies in general and if Vince were anything like Toby had described Berserkers, Tim had reason to be hesitant.

Toby knocked on the front door, almost cheerfully, making Tim flinch just a bit at the loud sound.

Footsteps sounded from the other side of the door, multiple locks seemingly undone before a man’s head peeked out of the doorway.  
Automatically, Tim saw that this man was around his age, if not older. His dirty blonde hair was wild and greyed at the roots – most likely from stress – and frayed at the ends. It was long as well, it would have maybe reached his shoulders if it wasn’t so messy.

He was thin, and his clothes lacked much color and hung off him. They had stains all over their surface of things that Tim didn’t even want to ponder of.  
All in all, he looked like the human embodiment of a tornado. Tim could only see himself being in this man’s same position a mere day ago, wild and cautious when it came to human contact.

Tim gulped nervously, gripping his knife tighter.

Vince Wilson’s eyes immediately darted to Toby, his grey orbs widening before he let out a single, raspy word that summed up his entire mental process and emotions all in one,

“ _Fuck._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so very much for reading this so far, I truly appreciate it. I would also appreciate it if you commented your thoughts on this fic! Anything good or bad, I'd like to hear. Thank you!


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